Silence in the Void
by Steph's
Summary: During a military operation in Xing, Mustang is abducted by local militiamen. When his men manage to find him, however, there's one problem nobody was expecting. Mustang doesn't remember anything. Anything at all. Can his memory be recovered, even in the middle of violent conflicts in one of the biggest and poorest cities of Xing?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, and I don't own any of the songs mentioned in this or the following chapters. If you sue me, I don't have any money either. Blame my boss.

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Hey people! It's been a long since I last posted anything, but here I am again! So here are a few things you should know about my story:

It's complete. I've finished it, so you don't have to worry about not having the end of the story. It will be posted.

Also, each chapter was named after a song. The songs can be listened to on youtube or other place of your choice. The lyrics are related to the chapter or to part of it. My music taste is kind of crazy, but if you don't like a song, you may simply ignore the name of the chapter. You don't need the song to understand the story. So I apologize if my taste in music is different from yours.

And last, but not least, ssadropout did a wonderful job beta-reading this story for me, so if you have the time, go check some of her stories too!

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 **Silence in the Void**

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 **Chapter 1 – Riot**

 _Riot – Three Days Grace_

The sunlight beamed on his face aggressively and the prospect of some fresh air came as a disappointment. It was scorching hot outside and the sun burned mercilessly the skin that had been in the dark for too long. Sweat evaporated quickly, and with each drop, the chance of survival became smaller. Dehydration was on the prowl, hoping to claim another victim soon.

Still, with all the energy he had, he ran. He ran down the cramped and narrow dirt streets, among the poorly-constructed shacks that sprouted from the ground everywhere, jumping over crates and barrels and scaring people out of his way. Right behind him shouts followed; angry voices that belonged to men who carried guns and knives, even swords. One of those maniacs had just tried to kill him with one.

Anywhere, anywhere he could hide. Anywhere he could sit and rest, be away from the sun. Anywhere. He didn't have a plan. He didn't have a place to go. The only thing he could do was try to get away from the people who wanted him dead. Women shrieked as they saw him, pushing themselves against the walls to be out of his way. A scared goat ran by his side and jumped over a fence; men yelled, making rude gestures towards him; children cried, but with curiosity tried to get a glimpse of the man running. Shots were fired to the skies, spreading more panic. The fugitive felt his chest hurt with the effort to breathe the dry air, but kept on running as fast as he could. This wasn't an easy task, however, for the streets were so crowded the place defied the laws of physics. But he had to run. He had to ignore the pain in his muscles and run to safety, if such a thing existed for him.

Survival instinct. That was all he had left. An instinct to survive, something inborn of every living creature on the face of the Earth – even in a place like this, punished by harsh weather and more than harsh living conditions.

As he went down an even narrower and more crowded way between stores and houses, he realized the densely-populated mess that this city was provided many alternative escape routes. So many people lived there, they formed walls. Walls of people walking home, walls that opened for him in fear, closing again as he passed. They would open for his pursuers as well, but not in the same order, leading those men to different ways. Confusion and chaos created an opportunity for him to escape. There might be a chance to live, to get out of that sea of people and shacks.

That place was Zhu Xia, an ever-spreading district of Qyang. Zhu Xia was a city on its own, maybe a world on its own. Qyang was a big and important city of Xing, close to the desert and populated by a cauldron of different cultures. Zhu Xia was a district that had grown out of control, far from any help from the government for many years.

Every year hard-working Xingese farmers from the west lost their crops to droughts. With no other place to go they hoped to get to Qyang and find jobs, but Qyang didn't open its doors to anyone. People ended up building shacks in Zhu Xia, also known in neighboring countries as the Slum City. And therefore, the Slum City continued to grow like a tumor.

And in the outskirts of the city, where the National Army still had a little – if any – influence over the population of Zhu Xia, soldiers watched the sea of shacks attentively, discussing military strategies.

"Intelligence has just radioed in. There seems to be some uproar north of here, about three miles into the district," said a man in uniform. His Xingese features were matched by a slight accent, despite his proficiency in the Amestrian language.

"Do you think it's related to the conflicts, Major Zhou?" asked another soldier, who spoke Amestrian as his first language.

"Out there it could be anything," the man replied. "It's out of our jurisdiction anyway."

The Amestrian soldier sighed, painfully knowing what that meant.

The Xingese army couldn't enter Zhu Xia. The Slum City was under the rule of the Guang Tahe, a powerful local militia that had made the place its realm for decades. A realm of smuggled drugs and weapons, where water was expensive and death cheap. The Guang Tahe grew with the city and so did its power. Ling Yao, the Emperor of Xing for almost two years now, wanted to take the militia down, but other matters had demanded his attention and he had waited. Now things had run amok and Ling had finally been forced to ignore other problems and turn to face the criminal military machine that had formed a nation inside his nation.

The Guang Tahe had become an international matter and a threat to the good relations between Xing and Amestris. At first by attacking Amestrian railways and trains that crossed the desert carrying goods to and from Xing, and now by showing that Amestrian people weren't welcome into Xingese territory, especially when they came to work alongside with the Emperor's officers.

Second Lieutenant Vato Falman observed absently as Xingese soldiers walked around a few dilapidated stores in the outskirts of Zhu Xia. Those stores sold merchandise produced inside the Slum City. The soldiers barely talked to each other, just kept on patrolling the street that was one of the few ways into Zhu Xia that was wide enough for a tank to go through. Not that the superior officers were likely to allow one to enter the slums right now.

"Hey."

Falman turned around and saw Lieutenant Havoc, who walked quickly towards him, looking quite agitated.

"Anything?"

"Colonel Bingham just talked to the Emperor. Said the whole thing will be one hell of a diplomatic issue between Xing and Amestris if they don't do something quickly."

"Do you think they will do anything? I mean, we know they can't simply invade Zhu Xia with a battalion. Lots of civilians would be killed," Falman said.

"I know. The Guang Tahe is probably counting on that. But…"

"But?"

"Turns out it's getting out of hand. The Tahe attacked a military post close to Zhu Xia, in section 11 south, about three hours ago."

"That's nothing new. They have attacked soldiers before, haven't they?"

"With mortars," Havoc continued. "The shells destroyed the post and even hit a nearby school. If it wasn't for the order to close the school this week, they'd have a lot more victims. The even more worrisome thing is that our officers analyzed the splinters of the shell casings and concluded the weapon used to fire them is manufactured in Drachma."

Falman shifted slightly, not liking how that sounded. Drachma involved in the situation meant the conflict could be much more serious than they had expected. Anything related to Drachma was bad news in his experience.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye was in the meeting this morning and she said General Ushi mentioned having information about Drachman weapons being smuggled into the country," Havoc explained. "The Emperor was furious with him. That bastard Ushi thought it wasn't worth doing anything about it and withheld the information."

Falman straightened himself, feeling irritated. Ushi knew about it and had taken the information lightly. Big mistake. It would be no surprise if the Xingese general was court-martialled for failing to report important information to the Emperor.

"Have they reached a decision about Mustang yet?" Falman asked, though not very optimistically.

"No. Man, I still can't believe it. If I had been quicker to notice..."

"You did everything you could."

"Maybe so, maybe not. I know I'll feel like crap for the rest of my life one way or the other. What difference does it make?" Jean confessed, lighting a cigarette.

Falman didn't know what to say. The two soldiers just turned to the street in front of them, one that led right into the heart of Zhu Xia. They both sighed, a shadow of grief already creeping up on them. The two Amestrian soldiers couldn't go into the Slum City. They didn't have permission from the Xingese government and even if they did, there was no way they would walk as far as a mile by themselves. They'd get killed before that. A single gunshot was fired somewhere, echoing throughout the slums, but it was impossible to say where it had come from, or where it had hit.

 **. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

More gunshots echoed a couple miles from there, fired to the skies by militiamen trying to scare the people into staying inside their houses as they hunted their fugitive. The man had been running for some time already, hiding behind shacks, moving under rubble and constantly eluding his assailants. But he was getting tired.

With another huge effort, he sprang from a hole in the ground that was used to keep trash before it was buried. Two Xingese lads almost jumped out of their skins as they saw the hunted man and cursed in their own language. The fugitive was already running down another street. A cart pulled by a donkey crossed in his way and he almost collided with it, scaring the animal and creating even a bigger commotion. Shouts behind him fueled his instincts and he kept on running. With each leap, with each step, every time he crawled behind a pile of wood or through an animal shelter, his energy was slowly draining and his body was giving out. He needed to rest. If he didn't, he'd probably collapse somewhere and that would be the end for him.

He risked running into a small barn through a hole in a wall, falling down on a stone floor covered with a very thin layer of dirty old straw. He rolled over, his clothes collecting straw from the ground. A scrawny horse pulled on a rope tied around his neck, trying to get away from him, but soon stopped and calmed down. A lot of noise still came from the street, and it sounded like his pursuers had continued down the street, but no one had seen him hide in that animal shed.

After a few moments simply trying to catch his breath, the man finally studied the place where he was. It was dark. The door was closed and only the window was open to allow the animals to stick their heads out and see the light of day. Now he noticed that he hadn't entered the shed through a door, he had literarily jumped through the window. The shed contained only a horse that had seen better days, a few straw bales and a clothes line that faced another window, opposite to the one through which he had entered. The already dry clothes on the line covered that window like a curtain and some more clothes lay on a pile of wooden boards, waiting to be washed and put to dry.

The material those clothes were made of wasn't nearly as nice as the clothes the fugitive wore, but they called a lot less attention. The man took off his shirt, holding his breath as he did so. His shoulder was injured. He had been stabbed the day before, merely for the entertainment of those who had kept him captive. It had stopped bleeding for now, but getting rid of that blood-caked shirt of his was nothing short of a big relief. He put on a dirty shirt from the pile, daring not touch the clothes on the line. Those covered the window and helped conceal him.

He proceeded removing his boots and pants. He had been wearing blue pants, for God's sakes. Anyone could spot him in those from miles away. He put on a pair of pants that had a dull tone of brown and looked around for shoes. Luckily, someone had left a pair of sandals by the horse's side. They were a bit small for him, itchy and dirty with dung, but better than walking barefoot and the boots called too much attention.

He looked again at the clothes he had left on the floor, trying to remember anything. What was he doing in those clothes? They looked like a military uniform. Was he a soldier? The man forced his weary mind to think again and tried to recover any memory from it. Any memory at all, anything that identified him. It was to no avail.

He had lost everything. His life had started about three days ago inside a completely dark room where it was impossible to see anything. He had stayed in there screaming for help and trying to find a way out of the darkness. He had tried to dig the ground, kicked the only door he found, screamed himself hoarse, but nothing had happened for more than a day. That was when someone had come to open the door, bringing about a hell worse than the empty dark room.

" _What the hell do you want from me?" he had yelled as three men dragged him out of the basement into another room._

 _They talked to each other in a different language which the prisoner couldn't understand, and pushed him violently, punched him and kicked him to make him walk in the direction they wanted him to. He had tried to fight back, surprised that somehow his own body knew how to dodge a punch and counterattack, but that was when one of the men pulled out a gun, shooting the ground and missing his foot for about half an inch. The guy then pointed the gun at his right knee, a clear threat of a painful but not fatal wound in the gesture._

" _I don't know anything. Whatever it is you want from me, I don't understand!"_

 _He really didn't. He had woken up inside that dark basement and any previous memories had been completely lost. For hours he had sat in the dark, trying to recall how he had ended up there or where he had been before that. Nothing had come to mind. It was all a blank. A terrible and painful absence for nothing existed out of that dark room. He had even run his hands over his face and hair and realized in sheer terror, his own appearance was a mystery to him. He wished he had a mirror or anything that could reflect his image and allow him to identify the stranger that he himself was. But there in the dark, it would have been useless anyway._

The scrawny horse tied inside the shed pulled on the rope again and neighed, trying to move away from the stranger as he stood up. The man was wearing completely different clothes now, apart from a pair of white gloves that he now remembered to take off. He ditched them with the rest of the clothes and examined the pendant attached to the necklace he was wearing. It was a long silver chain, well concealed by his shirt. There were actually two objects in the chain. One was a ring and the other a dog tag.

A dog tag! That made sense if he was a soldier. He turned it around and read the words in it, desperately trying to get some meaning to his life.

BG R. MUSTANG

CENTRAL CITY AMESTRIS

6097 5674

Mustang looked at it, hoping the name could ring any bells. He stared at the void that was his own mind and the void stared back, but didn't answer. He was a man with no memories. What did the R stand for? BG probably stood for brigadier general, a high rank in the army. That he could tell. He was from Central City, in Amestris, but he was pretty sure the place where he was now was not Amestris.

He examined the ring he had found with the dog tag, but there wasn't anything written on it. Mustang finally hid the ring and the dog tag inside his shirt, cursing as he noticed the shoulder wound had started to bleed a little again. Fortunately, it wasn't that bad anymore.

"Who am I?" he asked himself, sitting on the floor again in order to wait for the sunset. Darkness should be safer than daylight. He didn't have any long-term plans to survive, but he knew that if he didn't keep on moving he would be killed very quickly. Perhaps he could find some water. There was some for the horse, but it was so muddy and disgusting he didn't have the guts to drink it. He just hoped no one would walk into that shed before dark.

Luckily for him, nobody did. The hours went by and nightfall came, covering the roofs of the shacks like a dark blanket. There still should be a lot of people out on the street, but that night, not many risked staying outside. Most people locked themselves inside their houses. The darkness was filled with the noise of shots and even an occasional explosion of a hand grenade. Men ran up and down the street, yelling, entering one or another house, asking the scared dwellers questions and then leaving, sometimes taking the men in fighting condition with them.

The night went on, but the conflicts escalated. There in the outskirts of the Slum City, almost in Qyang territory, Xingese soldiers, aided by a few foreign soldiers, listened to their radios attentively, picking messages from intelligence agents. There was an army base in Qyang near Zhu Xia territory and a few posts in the frontier between the two cities. From the posts, soldiers from the National Xingese Army could gather some information to report to the base.

"Another explosion?" Lieutenant Hawkeye was surprised.

So many explosions coming from the Slum City… could it be him?

"Intelligence reports said it was a bombshell," Sergeant Fuery added, as though he had read her mind.

"Something is wrong there. Reports of conflicts have been coming in one after another the entire afternoon."

"Such a commotion is strange. The Xingese officers are worried that there is some dispute between the families."

The militia was run by two powerful families, the Wang family and the Ting Ting family. Nonetheless, just as there could be only one king in a country, there could be only one boss in an organization such as the Guang Tahe. Tao Wang, a skillful swordsman and horse rider in his early thirties, had become the ruler of the militia after his father's death ten years before. Despite being very young, he had a good mind for business and the Guang Tahe had thrived under his command. That, however, didn't keep the members from the two families from clashing constantly.

Riza stared at the newspaper photograph that had been published less than two days before and felt like she was going to be sick. She had looked at that picture a few times, and every time she did so again, she felt even worse. The headline on the first page was still shocking.

AMESTRIAN OFFICER TAKEN HOSTAGE BY TAHE TERRORISTS

The picture showed four militia men around Brigadier General Roy Mustang, who was untied and had his gloves on, but didn't resist. He stared blankly at the photographer, while four men staring menacingly at the photographer, pointed guns and knives at him. One of them was holding him by the shirt aggressively, but Mustang didn't seem able to react.

"Why didn't you fight them, Roy?" Riza asked the photograph.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the hurried steps of Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda, who stumbled into the office, bringing a crumpled piece of paper in his hand.

"He escaped! Mustang killed Tao Wang and escaped!" he shouted almost hysterically, showing Hawkeye the report he had.

"What? When?" Hawkeye asked, a glimpse of hope coming back to her as she almost yanked the piece of paper from Breda's hand.

"Early afternoon, a few hours ago. Intelligence just got this from a man they captured. That's why there's such a commotion out there."

"They're after the brigadier general?" Fuery asked.

"That too, the order is to bring him alive, not necessarily in one piece. But with Tao Wang dead-"

"Succession becomes a problem. Tao Wang didn't leave any heirs," Hawkeye finished Breda's sentence. "If they are busy fighting between them, the general will have a better chance of surviving. We have to help him. We have to get into the city."

"That would be suicidal," said a fourth voice, one that belonged to a Xingese general.

General Ushi walked into the temporary Amestrian office in the Xingese military base, carrying a copy of the report. His features were somber. He had been demoted for failing to report what he knew about Drachman weapons to the Emperor and would have to serve time in jail. He surely wasn't pleased about that.

"You can't enter Zhu Xia alone. But with Tao Wang's death, bloodshed is imminent. The army will have to interfere. The Emperor summoned all his counselors and… I believe we will invade Zhu Xia first thing in the morning."

"Do you think he has all night?" Hawkeye asked him angrily.

"Mustang isn't the priority anymore, he caused enough trouble already. There are millions of civilians living there. It's a densely-populated area. A war between the two families could cause thousands of deaths, especially if they keep using Drachman mortars and machine guns. I'm sorry to tell you this, but if I were you, I'd go back home and begin funeral arrangements."

"Mustang caused enough trouble?" Hawkeye said, her fierce gaze almost piercing through Ushi's head.

Breda just got in between the two of them, thinking that even though Hawkeye didn't usually lose her temper, it might not be a good idea to risk it. One offensive word could be enough to cause quite an incident. General Ushi walked to the door followed closely by his almost harassing escorts.

"General Ushi, what should we call you now? Colonel?" Hawkeye said, knowing that demotion was a big embarrassment in Amestris and even worse in Xing.

Ushi exhaled angrily, but didn't answer. He left the office, still followed by the escorts, and the three Amestrian soldiers remained there, desperation growing inside them quickly. Mustang had fought and eluded his attackers. But how could he get out of such a big place with so many people looking for him? And worse than that, if the order was to bring him back alive, it meant they wouldn't let him leave the living world easily if they caught him. It all had to be a horrific nightmare.

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OK, first chapter up! I hope you liked it! Please, leave a review with your opinion! Come on, you know you want to! Click on the button! It's calling your name! So, thanks for reading and come back in a week or two for more!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything, not even my own soul. It's been split in half. My professors at the university have half of it, and my boss has the other half locked in her office. One day, I'll graduate and... let someone else have my soul. So, FMA and the song below used for the chapter title... not mine!

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I want to say thank you to everyone who read the chapter, especially to those who left a review or alerted. Thanks a lot guys! And I also have to say a big thank you to my awesome beta-reader, ssadropout! Go check some of her stories too, people!

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 **Chapter 2 – Citizen Soldier**

 _Citizen Soldier – Three Doors Down_

"Whatever happens, you all follow my orders, you understand? You're going to stay with my men; you _will not_ go off on your own, did I make myself clear?" the Xingese Colonel Rong told the Amestrian soldiers that were going into the Slum City along with his company.

"Yes, Sir!" they all answered at the same time.

"Good," Rong said, before muttering something in his own language that probably didn't mean anything nice.

The Emperor had ordered his men to find a way to get Mustang out of Zhu Xia alive. He had debts with the Amestrian brigadier general, he had said. But Ling's officers didn't believe the task to be possible and in order to avoid problems with Amestris, decided that Mustang's own men should go into the Slum City and see for themselves that they were fighting for a lost cause. Rong however, didn't like the idea much. Taking Amestrian soldiers with him was a bother, but he was the only colonel that spoke the Amestrian language well _and_ could be in charge of such an operation. However, he was more worried about getting his own men out of there alive, so if those five foreigners wanted to get themselves killed in a hopeless mission, who was he to say otherwise? Maybe they would take off on their own. He wouldn't care much if they did.

At dawn they started making their way through one of the streets that gave access to the center of the Slum City, just as other three companies entered the slums through other ways. Hell had been unleashed.

Daylight was supposed to get everybody out of their houses and the streets full again. In a normal situation, Zhu Xia would be swarming with workers leaving their houses at this hour, but very few people were still on the streets and the ones that were, didn't walk in the open. They moved slowly along walls, hiding behind anything they could find, guns always in hand.

The man with no memories listened attentively for any voices nearby. Nobody was around. He had found a good place to hide just underneath the stairs that led to the door of a closed workshop. Overnight he had picked one direction and walked quite a lot. If he walked always in the same direction, he had to get somewhere. But now he needed to rest a little, otherwise he would collapse. He hadn't slept in almost forty-eight hours.

A blast a couple hundred yards away woke him up. The earth shook and terrible hissing sounds followed, ending in smaller blasts. A bombshell had lifted the earth and sent fragments everywhere, hitting not only houses, but also moving targets.

Mustang felt his heart pounding inside his chest for a good minute or two. In the distance, cries for help echoed, cries of agony of people who had been injured. The man with no memory dozed off again as soon as he couldn't feel his heartbeat on his throat anymore. He was too exhausted to remain alert.

Still over a mile away from there, soldiers were making their way through the slums.

"Zhinshuu!" a man yelled from the roof of a house. Shots followed his voice. A loud thud and something fell on the roof, rolled down and landed on the ground. The man who had yelled was dead, his chest covered in blood. Zinshuu was the Xingese word for "soldiers". Soldiers were coming through the city, although the bullet that had just hit the man hadn't been fired by one.

Colonel Rong commanded his men with determination. His company went into Zhu Xia, clearing the way and then sending fireteams into house by house, looking for militiamen that could be hiding. When they didn't find any, they helped the civilians leave. Families were being escorted out of the city to safety in refugee camps quickly set overnight. They weren't perfect, but the shelters in the camps were a lot safer. Very few civilians refused to leave when the soldiers asked them too. The ones that did were ordered to stay inside their houses and not leave. It was too dangerous to be out on the streets.

As another door went down and soldiers walked in another shack, Second Lieutenant Falman followed in, nervous at the cries and desperate shouts from the family inside. The Amestrian soldier had already lost count of how many shacks they had entered. It could be more than twenty by now. He wasn't used to this much action in a day, let alone to such dramatic situations.

"Can you ask about Mustang?" he said to one of the Xingese soldiers, a young corporal called Jun, who spoke a little Amestrian.

"I look for militia before", the guy said, pointing the gun he had at a man who appeared to be the father of the family and asking about guns in the house.

At the same time, other soldiers searched the house for anything suspicious. One of them opened a jar and pulled a stash of drugs from it. Falman was surprised at how angry the soldiers got. They started yelling, threatening the man, who swore the drug wasn't his.

"You want ask about Mustang?" Jun asked Falman. "Ask."

"Ask them if they know his whereabouts, please."

The corporal told the other soldiers to stop shouting and asked the already really scared family of father, mother and two teenage boys about Mustang. The four all shook their heads almost hysterically. The corporal got the drugs and pulled a lighter out of his pocket, threatening to burn the package. For a moment, there was no reaction, and then the older boy fell to his knees, begging them in Xingese not to burn the drugs. He had to sell them and he hadn't paid the dealer yet. If he didn't have the money for the Tahe, he would be killed. Falman could sort of understand what was going on even though he didn't understand the language.

"Is this really necessary?" he asked the Xingese soldiers nervously.

"He involved with drugs, he can know about Mustang. Ask boy. Scare boy little bit. I translate."

The Amestrian soldier took a step forward, very uncomfortable with the situation. That area was already relatively safe if one didn't take the bombshells into consideration. Therefore they could take some time talking to people; that didn't really bother him. It was the idea of intimidating a kid that was about to start crying in despair at any moment. Falman thought the boy was probably young enough to be his own child. How could he treat such a young lad like a criminal?

"Do you know anything about Mustang?" he asked in a calm, almost shy voice.

"You not receive answer if ask nice. You not want to find Mustang?" Corporal Jun mocked him. "Ask right and he can say you something."

"Where's Brigadier General Mustang?" he repeated his question to the boy, who still shook his head.

"You do wrong," the corporal said, before ordering the family to leave for the camps. The four of them grabbed some bags they had already prepared and took off on a sprint as soon as the soldiers allowed them to.

"If he know about Mustang, you not know now," the corporal told Falman, before they moved towards the door, checking the surroundings for militiamen before they went out on the street.

"He isn't a criminal, he's a kid," Falman finally plucked up the courage to protest.

"He is kid, yes. He is scared too. Scared by militia, not by you. You not make boy scared by you, he will not talk."

A loud shot sent them to the floor, as one of the Xingese privates, who had just been by Falman's side, had his head literally exploded by a bullet that had come through the open window. Lying on the floor, Falman lifted his head in panic, holding his rifle like his life depended on it. The sunlight was on his eyes, but he managed to see through the window two people on a flat roof. The lieutenant understood that he would get shot unless he moved away from the window, so he rolled to the side, just before another bullet hit the ground. Knowing he might not have a second chance, he shot back three times. Something rolled down the roof and fell in the street.

The other soldiers were already running out of the house, trying to get the second man. Falman stood up with some difficulty and followed them, his gun in hand, an adrenaline rush making his heart beat madly fast. The second man had managed to get away, so they turned their attention back to the injured shooter, whose gun had fallen far from his reach.

The teenage boy that he had just asked about Mustang, covered in his own blood, apologized in desperation. Falman felt his knees weaken for a second when he saw the kid. The soldiers had let them go with the drugs so they wouldn't be in trouble and still the stupid boy had come back to shoot them? Why would he do that?

"Tahe man said boy to come, to have honor," the corporal told Falman. "He not want…" the corporal stopped to think for a moment, then pointed his finger at Falman and mimicked a gun being fired.

"He didn't want to shoot at us," the Amestrian soldier said dismally.

The boy kept on talking between loud sobs and Falman began to really understand the power and the evil with which the Guang Tahe had enslaved that people. He had just shot a boy who couldn't be over sixteen and who had been forced to attack them. The boy didn't say much more before life left him and Falman wished with every cell in his body he hadn't shot him. A strong slap on the face brought him back to reality.

"Move!" Jun yelled angrily at him, before running after the rest of the fireteam. Falman took a last look at the bloody kid before he followed the soldiers. There was no time for any human feelings. This was a war to save poor civilians from an unscrupulous and powerful enemy that wouldn't go down easily. Falman just hoped they could end this without more unnecessary deaths.

"Seems like this is why they didn't want to invade this place," Lieutenant Breda said to Havoc as they helped Xingese soldiers remove wounded people out of a house that had been bombarded. By their side, Xingese soldiers and civilians tried to remove the rubble, just as other soldiers watched the streets and the nearby roofs for more militiamen. Loud cries were heard everywhere. Those were people who had so little and had lost it all.

"This is the worst kind of conflict!" Havoc complained angrily, as he kept digging in the dirt with his bare hands, already wounded from nails and shrapnel. "Fucking militia, killing civilians and destroying their houses… This is their own damn people, what are they _thinking_?"

"Falman's fireteam is back," Breda said, pointing at a group of four people. There should be five, but one of them hadn't made it.

"The houses around this section are clear," Falman said, joining them.

"Great, help me move this damn rock here!" Havoc yelled and together both men pulled a bigger rock, rolling it away from the rubble.

"Have you heard of Hawkeye and Fuery?" Falman asked.

"Fuery is helping escort the civilians to a cleared area from where they can go to the base. Hawkeye is with another fireteam. We were too, until a hand grenade almost blew us up," Breda replied.

Most of the houses and small buildings in the Slum City were poorly constructed, so when bombshells and grenades hit them, they went down like card castles. About ten feet away from them, a soldier and a couple of civilians found one last dead body and decided to stop searching for survivors. There shouldn't be anyone left under that pile of rubble.

"We should go too, or we'll be left beh-"

"Look out!" Havoc yelled, as they all heard the whistle of a bombshell falling and ran for cover.

Panic reigned as they flung themselves into any hole they could find or behind any rock or pile of rubble. The explosion rocked the ground, and then lower insect-like buzzes were heard, ending in smaller explosions and giving the ground a second wave of impact. Fragments shot in every direction over their heads, and dirt went up in the air, smoke hanging there for a while. The silence of shock took over eerily, scary. Soldiers slowly moved from under the rubble, checking their injuries to be sure they were small. Sometimes the adrenaline rush was so big they didn't realize the extent of their own wounds until they started to feel faint.

As everyone stood up miraculously more or less in one piece, Corporal Jun shouted angrily and Falman went after him, the fireteam moving among the shacks that were still standing. Another Xingese soldier called Havoc and Breda and the two soldiers followed him, ready to join their fireteams. The three Amestrian soldiers all went in different directions, wondering if they would see their friends again. Shots echoed from not so far away. This was a battlefield that would leave its marks on everybody, wounded or not.

And as the day went on, a few scarce clouds moved slowly across the sky, enough to provide an ephemeral shade here and there, but not even a chance of rain. Rain would have been welcomed in the land, to wash away the blood and the rubble, refresh the tired soldiers and civilians, and maybe calm down the militiamen.

The army continued to clear house by house slowly, letting civilians go, searching for Tahe men, interrogating people, trying to get information about the criminals, but nobody talked. "I don't know" was the only answer soldiers got to any questions they asked most of the time.

Lieutenant Breda looked around the one-room house that they had just entered, hoping not to find any guns or drugs. That would mean another session of "how-the-hell-did-you-get-this" and "are-you-hiding-militia" kind of questions towards a family that looked like they could have used some more caloric meals.

"Hadí!" he yelled, which was the Xingese word for 'okay'. Or at least that's what the other Xingese soldiers yelled when they didn't find anything suspicious. He then heard another soldier yell a different word, one that he had already heard but couldn't remember if it referred to drugs or weapons. The Amestrian lieutenant turned around and saw a tall Xingese with a crew cut holding a revolver to show to his corporal.

And another interrogation started, for the panic of the family. The soldiers didn't intend to kill or hurt anyone, but they were allowed to take them prisoners if they suspected those people were part of the militia. Breda sighed and walked to the door, hoping to keep an eye on the streets while the interrogation took place. For the last couple of hours reports of more and more militia coming had been piling up at the base. The situation was becoming tenser.

Inside the house the situation wasn't much better. The father and the older boys of the family were almost hysterical by now, trying to explain why they had the gun. They said it was for their own protection and the soldiers, despite not showing any signs of believing them, knew it was probably the truth. The whole family would be free to go to the camp in less than five minutes, but civilians could never know. They had learned not to trust people and to bargain for their lives if necessary.

"Lieutenant Breda!" the tall Xingese private called him.

"What?"

The corporal who was in charge of the fireteam spoke quickly to the private, who turned to Breda again, translating the corporal's words.

"They say they have information about Mustang if we let they go."

A Xingese woman spoke shyly to the corporal, pointing northeast and making gestures as she spoke, pointing at her shoulder a couple of times.

"She said she was working on the firework factory north of here and they all see a man running at the street, wearing the same military pants and boots you wearing now and a white shirt with some blood on the shoulder."

"Did she see where he went?" Breda asked, quite alarmed. Running in the street was good news, he was alive. The blood-on-the-shoulder part wasn't too relieving, though.

The corporal asked the woman again and the private did a simultaneous interpretation of her words, which were almost a mythical description of a wounded animal fleeing his hunters, but not very helpful, except for the location and the direction, which were quite precise. If it wasn't for the fact that she had seen him only the day before, it would have been very useful information.

The corporal finally ordered everyone to go, and the fireteam left the house as well, changing directions suddenly. The corporal had said something, but Breda didn't understand a word. He was more worried about the information they had gotten.

"We need to go back to base and let them know the general has been sighted," he said to the only private who spoke Amestrian.

"We are going to do that. Corporal's orders. We are going back to base right now."

Breda couldn't believe his luck. Most of the Xingese soldiers didn't seem to care much about a foreign officer in such a situation, but he happened to be fighting alongside one corporal that did.

"Mustang has a Xingese relative, does he not?" the private asked Breda.

"It is possible. He certainly bears a resemblance."

"He is a good man, from what I listen,"

"He is, indeed," Breda agreed, with a hopeful smile. Maybe there was a way out for Mustang. That man had led them through hell and out of it before, and now they'd do the same to get him out of that one alive.

The Emperor's orders had been clear. Getting Mustang out of Zhu Xia alive was important for Ling. His soldiers had considered the task to be impossible, but now, taking the new information into account, the Xingese officers couldn't neglect him. Amestrian soldiers were there to be sure this information wouldn't be ignored.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"It is likely that he has changed clothes. He has been sighted again at least twice in farmer's clothing," Colonel Rong explained to Lieutenant Hawkeye at the recently established battlefield base.

Soldiers were moving slowly into the city, liberating civilians and fighting militia away. They had turned some bigger houses built of concrete into their base and brought down the shabby shacks around. The soldiers now had a big area of open land, protected by not only their troops but also barbed wire. Trucks brought more ammunition and food from Qyang and took the wounded back to the hospital. The people that needed immediate care were tended for in the dressing station, a set of tents with all the medical equipment for emergencies.

Colonel Rong pointed his binoculars in the direction of the factory where Mustang had been sighted, but saw nothing.

"What worries me is that we haven't taken control of that area yet. And more militiamen keep coming. It's like they're multiplying."

"How many of them are there?" Hawkeye asked.

"We don't know, but they're forcing civilians to join them, so it's going to be a much bigger amount of people. We thought this mission should take a lot of effort, but it seems we still underestimated our enemy."

They had just lost control of the Huaa entrance to the slums and the platoons advancing west had just encountered heavy gunfire. They had advanced quite a lot through the slums at first, but things were getting more complicated by the minute.

"We have to find him before it gets dark."

"I know that, Lieutenant Hawkeye. We'll continue the operation for as long as possible."

"Sir, I would like to go back outside with my fireteam," Hawkeye demanded. Rong assented and watched her leave back into the slums, in an area that was still being searched.

Once it got dark, they wouldn't be able to continue moving. They would need lights to do so, but carrying lights would make them walking targets to Tahe men who would be nestling in the night.

But daylight was still as bright as it could be, heating up the land, making the temperature unbearable even in the shade. It was about three o'clock in the afternoon when the sun finally succeeded in getting the fugitive with no memory to leave his last hideout. Mustang had managed to enter the closed workshop and even get a drink of clean water, although warm and not too refreshing. But the building, despite being safe from the militia, was a real threat of heatstroke.

Mustang covered his head with a hat he found in the shop and walked outside, trying to look just like one more of those scared people that he had seen running everywhere. A slight breeze met him, and he breathed a little more slowly, still feeling his head hurt. He was barely able to run, so tired he was. Therefore, he walked along the walls of the houses, hiding his face as best as he could by looking down. It was working. People went past him, but no one stopped to look at the man without memory. At least until a man in a uniform spotted him.

The soldier yelled something in that weird language the man with no memory couldn't understand and pointed a gun at him.

"Damn it, not again."

He thought of running, but realized too late other men in the same uniform had surrounded him. Before he could decide whether to try to run or surrender, he was on the ground, soldiers holding him down as they searched him for weapons. He was too weak to react.

Somebody yelled in the distance, but the fugitive didn't pay attention. He thought he had heard his own language, but that couldn't be true. He had to be hallucinating already. His shoulder injury sent a strong bolt of pain as suddenly, the soldiers that had taken him pulled him up, making the fugitive stand up quickly. The abrupt motion made the man feel dizzy and his sight was blurred for a few seconds. He was about to faint. He felt the hands let go of him and made an effort to stand on his own, as his sight returned to normal and he was able to distinguish a tall blond man right in front of him.

"You're alive! I can't believe it!" the man said loudly.

The man with no memory looked down and noticed the soldier had a rifle in his hand. His legs felt weaker. If he wanted to get away, he needed to do so while he could still walk.

With one last effort, the man threw a punch at the confused soldier, catching him off guard. Havoc almost lost balance, and the fugitive tried to turn around and run, but the Xingese soldiers didn't let him. Weak as he was, Mustang was back on the ground with the Xingese men holding him down in a matter of seconds.

"Mustang! What the hell is wrong with you? Are you okay?" Havoc asked him, kneeling down to place a hand on the fugitive's shoulder. "Damn it, you could have saved the punch for later!"

Havoc then turned to the Xingese soldiers and shoved them away from Mustang, cursing at them. He offered a hand to the general, but Mustang only sat up, feeling like his head would explode at any moment. That man had just called him by his last name.

"Look Sir, I'm sorry. It's my fault. I didn't notice those bastards coming for us, I tried going after the car, but I wasn't fast enough."

Mustang couldn't remember what he was talking about, but at least this man knew him. That was something at least. Some part of his life, right in front of him. Even though he should have felt relieved, Mustang found himself growing more and more nervous. He had a life, he had a past, and he wished more than anything now, that he could remember what that was. He wished he could grasp whatever lay ahead of him, but despite feeling like there was something to be seen, he couldn't see it.

"Who are you?" he asked, still sitting on the ground.

Havoc stared at Roy, surprised, but not able to trust his ears. The Xingese soldiers by their side didn't speak Amestrian, so they didn't understand anything. They just stood there waiting for orders. Two had already gone after their superiors to give them the update, and other three remained around Mustang, which, a few seconds before, had been the only thing to keep Roy from running away.

"What did you say?"

"I asked, who are you?" Mustang insisted after a moment, obviously uncomfortable.

"Who ar- What the hell?" Havoc asked, thinking that the man in front of him almost seemed to be a different person. "Mustang, are you okay?"

"No."

"What do you mean who am I?"

"I don't know. Everything… is gone," Roy finally said.

"Everything _what_?" Havoc asked.

"I wish I knew."

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Hello guys! Nice to have you here again for my second chapter! I hope you liked it! Please leave a review if you have the time. It's always nice to have some feedback, even if that feedback is no longer than 5 or 6 words. So, thanks again, and come back for chapter 3!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. I just enjoy torturing the poor characters.

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I want to say thanks to everyone who's reviewed, alerted and favorited! And I also want to say a big thank you to my wonderful beta-reader, ssadropout!

* * *

 **Chapter 3 – Don't Cry**

 _Don't Cry – Guns 'n Roses_

"He lost his memory?" Hawkeye asked in disbelief as the doctor demanded that everybody sit down.

Just a couple of meters away, Mustang was sleeping in a bed among the other patients. His body temperature had been controlled with wet sheets and his injured shoulder had been cleaned and dressed. The wound wasn't deep, though it needed a few stitches. Now he could finally get some rest after all he had been through.

"The Brigadier General arrived with an estimated dehydration of 6%, a slightly elevated body temperature and signs of heat exhaustion. He would have progressed to a heatstroke very soon if you hadn't found him," the doctor explained, reading the chart. He raised his eyes to look at Mustang's worried subordinates, already expecting questions.

"Didn't his abductors hit him on the head?" Sergeant Fuery asked nervously, hoping all that would simply turn out to be a mistake. Mustang would wake up complaining and giving them orders as he always did, and everything would go back to normal.

"He hasn't hurt his head so badly. I know they hit him on the head when they attacked him, but he doesn't have any signs of neurological disorders, apart from the amnesia itself."

"What about the heat?" Breda asked, crossing his arms in annoyance. Doctors should have answers for things like this.

"It would be a new one for me. I mean, the heat might elevate his blood pressure and cause a stroke, for example, but he doesn't have any signs that suggest that. No loss of coordination, speech problems, nothing. He's weak and all, but that's mostly because of the state he's in."

"Then how can he be amnesiac?" Havoc asked loudly, making the other soldiers ask him to keep his voice down. There were patients sleeping, although the medical facility was simply a set of tents that allowed no decent silence inside.

The doctor sighed and looked at the chart again, before turning to the soldiers once more and saying, "Alkahestry, I believe. Someone did this to him."

Alkahestry – the Xingese version of alchemy. The word tore through the place like a knife cutting flesh. It was a real and mean possibility, which made Mustang's subordinates feel shocked. A few moments passed before anyone dared speak again.

"The picture in the newspaper. He had his gloves on and he wasn't tied, but he didn't fight his attackers," Hawkeye said, rubbing her forehead in dismay. It made sense. If Mustang couldn't remember how to use alchemy, he couldn't fight back.

"Why would anyone do this?" Fuery asked.

"Why?" Breda said. "The Flame Alchemist would be a very dangerous hostage to keep. That's why."

Amestris and Xing were good business partners, but once the Guang Tahe started plundering Amestrian trains in the desert, Fuhrer Grumman had demanded that Xing act. However, Emperor Ling Yao was having too much trouble already with such a big country to run, and he had gladly accepted help from Amestris to deal with the criminals. Mustang had been chosen to command an entire battalion that had been stationed across the desert, protecting the trains. And after a massive operation, they had arrested close to thirty men during subsequent attacks. Everything was going well, until Mustang was abducted.

"Fuck," Havoc said, standing up and pacing back and forth in the small space of the improvised hospital. "Maybe he'll be better when he wakes up?"

"Maybe it's a mental breakdown," the doctor said. "It seems he was in a very stressful situation."

Despite hoping that was the case and Roy would recover his memory, none of his subordinates believed that to be very likely. Stress was something Mustang could deal with. Alchemy on the other hand, sounded like a much more plausible explanation.

"What do we do now?" Falman asked Hawkeye once the doctor left them alone.

They were the only Amestrian soldiers out there in Zhu Xia, in a tent where doctors took care of the injured soldiers before sending them either back to battle or to Qyang for further treatment. Outside, Xingese soldiers worked hard to organize the recently established army base. The rest of the Amestrian soldiers in Xing were now in the desert, protecting the railroads from any possible attacks by the Guang Tahe.

But being there with the Xingese soldiers meant they had to obey their orders and do their job like all the others.

"We are stationed here at the dressing station for now," Hawkeye explained.

Tired as they were, they knew they had things to do. Hawkeye decided to guard the entrance of the tents and let the Xingese private that had been doing this all day go to sleep. Breda went outside to guard the tent as well, and the others thought they should get some sleep so they could replace Hawkeye and Breda later. But explosions outside were soon heard, and minutes later scared Xingese lads brought in two injured soldiers. One of them had had his leg blown off and the other had so much blood all over his body it was hard to say where it was coming from.

Havoc and Falman went to another tent where soldiers could lie down on the ground and sleep, while Fuery decided that with all this noise he wouldn't be able to sleep anyway. He offered the doctor some help and before he could realize what he had gotten himself into, the doctor had him put on gloves and help in the surgical procedure to stop the bleeding and close what was left of that man's leg.

Time passed slowly, with long periods of silence broken by sudden explosions and shots every now and then. None of them hit the base where they were, so most people managed to get some sleep, or could have tried to, at least.

At about two thirty in the morning, when it was still dark, more shots echoed, not so far away from there. The silence of the desert allowed noise to travel many miles. It woke Mustang up suddenly, making him sit up quickly, looking around. He was still in that medical facility, but there was no sign of that man who had recognized him or the doctor who had treated him.

Mustang looked around carefully, hoping to see either men somewhere, but all he could see were other patients, all Xingese, lying in their beds, trying to sleep. He lay down again as he started feeling dizzy, and heard steps. Somebody had probably noticed he was awake.

"Hello Sir," a timid voice said.

Roy sat up again to face the lad that had just arrived. He looked short for a soldier and wore glasses with thick lenses.

"Hello."

"How are you feeling?"

"Sick."

The soldier was quiet for a moment, but Roy could see he was anxious about something.

"Sir, I'm sorry for asking this, but… Do you remember what happened?"

Even though he was in safety for the first time since he had begun to exist in his own mind, Mustang felt the void creep up on him again. There was no use in running from it, and thus he shook his head slightly, before saying, "I remember waking up in a dark room about four days ago. I can't remember anything before that."

The soldier pursed his lips and eyed him nervously, before excusing himself. A few moments later, he came back followed by a blond woman. Mustang sat up again, looking at that woman as she entered the tent. There was something familiar about her, but he couldn't tell what. She looked stern and strong, and Mustang just thought that she looked beautiful when she smiled. He shook his head slightly. That didn't make any sense, as he couldn't remember having seen her before.

"Sir, how are you feeling?" she asked.

"My head doesn't hurt anymore. I'm just thirsty," Mustang answered, pulling the sheets to cover himself as he now remembered he had only his underwear on.

"I'll get you some water, Sir," the bespectacled soldier offered, before walking outside.

Mustang watched the lad disappear quickly, irritated at being called 'sir' again. Why wouldn't they just use his name? R. Mustang. He didn't even know what his first name was.

"I know you are tired, but I'm afraid I have to ask you some questions," the blond woman said, standing by the side of his bed in a somewhat formal manner.

"It's okay. I want to ask you some questions too. I'd like to know where my clothes are."

"If you are referring to the clothes you had when you arrived, I'm afraid the nurse used them to clean the floor. They were too dirty. I believe I can find you a spare Xingese uniform," Hawkeye replied.

"Okay."

"Sir, let me ask you-"

"Drop the 'sir', please," Mustang interrupted her, annoyed. He was hoping that sooner or later somebody would call him by his first name and he would learn what that was, but they insisted in calling him 'sir' all the time.

"Okay," Hawkeye said, not sure of how to even talk to him. He looked so different from the Roy she knew. It was like he had been stripped of more than his clothes and memory.

Sergeant Fuery walked into the tent again, carrying a metal cup full of water.

"Here you go, Sir," he said promptly.

"I have a name. Stop calling me sir."

The sergeant said a quick 'yes' then swallowed, almost as if holding the 'sir' with some difficulty.

"General Mustang," Hawkeye called him. "What is the first thing you remember?"

Mustang sighed, feeling frustrated. Wouldn't anybody just use his first name?

"I remember waking up in a dark basement. I was there for a long time until I escaped. What did those men want with me? What did I do to them?" Mustang asked.

Hawkeye and Fuery stared at each other for a second, before turning back to the general.

"We came to this country because the Guang Tahe, the militia, was attacking our trains. We were working alongside the Xingese army and we had an office in their headquarters in Qyang, near here. You commanded a large operation and we arrested twenty-eight militiamen, but the Tahe sent some men to Qyang. You and Lieutenant Havoc were attacked and they took you captive. They demanded that we release the prisoners. We believe they erased your memory using alchemy."

"Alchemy?" the concept somehow existed in his mind, though he couldn't tell how alchemy was used. "Why didn't they just kill me at once if they were going to do it anyway?" Mustang complained.

"They wanted to negotiate," Hawkeye said, confused. "We were negotiating the release of the prisoners in exchange for your safe return."

"Safe return? They tried to kill me!" Mustang blurted out.

There was a moment of silence, before Hawkeye tried to explain why they couldn't go into the slums. They had no idea where Mustang was, they couldn't go there by themselves and they had no permission to do so. Besides, they were hoping to be able to negotiate, despite the Xingese officers telling them not to.

"They said you killed Tao Wang," Hawkeye added, to which the already irritated general raised his head to look at her.

"I didn't kill anybody."

Mustang breathed in slowly, trying to gather everything he remembered to report to them. There were so many emotions, so much fear mixed in everything, it was difficult to give a neutral account of the facts.

He had woken up in a dark room, with no previous memories. He didn't know how he had gotten there or where he was. He had found a door in the dark but it was locked. He had screamed in desperation for help and tried to open the door, but nothing had happened at first. Time had passed, although he couldn't say how long he had stayed there, before three men opened the door and pulled him out. They had forced him to go to another room and then brought in a blindfolded man with a big suitcase. They took the blindfold off of him and the man quickly and nervously got a camera out of the suitcase. He set it up and Mustang's abductors forced the general to kneel to take a picture.

"The photographer really didn't know where he was," Fuery said to Hawkeye. "He was telling the truth."

The newspaper photographer had been interviewed and had sworn that he had no idea where he was or where Mustang was being kept.

"They were careful," Hawkeye agreed. "What happened then?"

"They tied me up to chair and left me there for another half a day. I think I cursed at one of them when he slapped me on the back of my head for no reason. That's when the guy stabbed me," Mustang told them, pointing at his injured shoulder, now clean and stitched up.

Both Hawkeye and Fuery felt terribly guilty. During all this time they had waited, hoping they could negotiate their way out of this mess, without creating any incidents between Amestris and Xing. Could they have brought a company and marched into the slums even though Xing wouldn't have conceded permission? It wouldn't have been right, to ruin the diplomatic relations between two countries and start a huge conflict inside the slums because of personal motives.

"How did you escape?" Fuery asked this time.

Roy sighed, thinking that nothing he remembered made much sense to him, but that specific moment made no sense at all.

 _He was still sitting on the same chair, as his shoulder bled less and less and finally stopped bleeding. His shirt was covered in red by then. Roy watched quietly as four men walked around the room irritated, apparently waiting for someone. They talked to each other every now and then, but he couldn't understand what they said._

 _Suddenly, as alarmed by something, they all straightened themselves and stood by the door of the room. One of them opened it hurriedly and an imposing figure was waiting just behind it, followed by other two men. The man who had just arrived was dressed in fancy clean clothes; different from all the others, who wore old dark outfits._

 _Whoever that man was, he had to be very important, for the others all bowed before him, and waited as he walked inside, his eyes locked in on the man tied up on the chair._

" _Amestrian, you have no business in my land."_

" _Fine, then let me go," Roy answered._

" _No, I don't let you go. The Great Tao Wang does not let his prey go," the man said with an evil smile, before unsheathing a long sword he was carrying and pointing it at the prisoner's groin._

" _I can let you go to the next world, though. Do you want to make a short trip or a long trip? Beg for mercy and I shall let you die quickly."_

 _The prisoner bit his lips, the fear of torture taking over him. However, he found out he was too proud to do as he was told. He didn't know who he was, but he knew he didn't deserve what they had done to him and he wouldn't lose whatever was left of his dignity._

" _Well, bite me," he finally said._

" _Oh, I will," Tao Wang said, before spitting some order to his men in Xingese. One of them untied Roy, forced him to stand up rudely, and then walked away. Tao Wang already had his sword pointed at Mustang again._

"Then this Tao Wang lunged forward, and something happened. I know it may sound crazy, but he simply caught fire, right in front of me," Roy said, waiting to see the two soldier's surprised faces.

When neither of them looked too surprised, Roy felt confused, like there was something they knew, but he didn't.

"And that's when you escaped," Hawkeye continued.

"Yes. I don't know how that happened, he simply burned to death. I swear, it was something right out of a nightmare."

Both soldiers nodded, knowing exactly what had happened, but neither of them had the heart to tell the General that the thing out of a nightmare had been his own doing. During the Ishbal war, Mustang had used his flame alchemy to kill so many, that the technique was probably embedded in his brain already. His response to the attack had been merely a reflex. Mustang's alchemy had been a blessing and a curse in Ishbal. With it, he had been able to protect his comrades and save many soldiers' lives. However, too many people had burned to death, leaving unrecognizable charcoaled corpses behind.

Even though Mustang had never talked much about it, they knew the past bothered him. Hawkeye knew those burned faces came back to torment Mustang in his dreams sometimes. She had heard him talk in his sleep before, muttering words that made her shed a tear in the dark, before waking him up from his nightmares.

"Let me ask you," Mustang called Hawkeye back from her thoughts.

He held the dog tag he had in the air, before saying, "It says Brigadier General R. Mustang."

Both Fuery and Hawkeye stared at him, waiting for his question. Mustang looked at them, a bit embarrassed, before continuing.

"What does 'R' stand for?"

"Roy. Roy Mustang," Riza replied, after a couple of seconds.

Feeling a lump in her throat, Hawkeye asked Mustang to go back to bed and told Fuery to stay with him. Before the two men had the time to say anything, she had rushed outside and around the tents, finding a quiet place where no one could see her. She looked at the stars for some time, as the tears streamed down her face. The desert night sky was a magnificent view she had never paid too much attention to.

"Hawkeye," a voice called, and Havoc showed up by her side, smoking a cigarette and carefully blowing smoke in a direction that wasn't hers.

"Why did this have to happen? After everything he's been through? After everything _we've_ been through?" Hawkeye said, more tears coming down as she spoke.

Havoc sighed, knowing this wasn't fair. Seeing Hawkeye like that made him feel terribly uneasy. That wasn't the Hawkeye he was used to, nor was that man lying in a bed in the dressing station the Mustang he knew. They were superior officers that Jean had always followed and trusted; they always knew what to do. And now, the ground beneath their feet had crumbled, leaving a bottomless hole.

"You have to be strong, Hawkeye. For him!" Havoc said, placing a hand on her shoulder and shaking her slightly, almost as if he could shake her into being her normal self again.

"I'm tired of being strong, damn it!" she yelled back at him, making Havoc regret having said that.

It was indeed unfair to demand that from her in such a situation. Havoc knew Mustang and Hawkeye's relationship went far beyond colleagues. He had found out about it one day, in a situation in which both soldiers had needed somebody's help to keep their secret. Knowing somebody would have to know about them, they had turned to Havoc for help.

 _The phone rang early in the morning, making Havoc jump from his bed to answer it in time. It wasn't even 6 o'clock in the morning and it was still dark outside. He wasn't expecting a phone call this early in the morning, and hearing Hawkeye's voice didn't help him understand anything._

" _Lieutenant Havoc, I need a favor. It's very important that you don't tell anyone about it," she had said._

" _I'm listening," he answered, fully alert now. She had to be in some kind of trouble to call him so early._

 _Havoc left his apartment about fifteen minutes later, still very confused. She had asked him to come to her place, wearing regular clothes and to bring a bag with civilian clothes, coat, shoes, and hat included. There would be a group of soldiers outside, right in front of her building, and she would be there too. Somebody had been killed right in front of the entrance of her building, but he wasn't supposed to talk to anybody apart from Hawkeye._

 _When he got to her place, everything was like he had expected. A dead body was lying flat in the street and many officers were around, studying the crime scene. Hawkeye was also there, talking to them. Havoc stood a few meters away from the military detectives, and after a couple of minutes, Hawkeye discreetly walked to him, talking in a low voice._

" _You know which floor I live on, right?"_

" _Yes," Havoc replied._

" _Go to my apartment and knock on the door. Take those clothes with you and don't talk to anybody else. Let them think you're a civilian."_

 _Havoc nodded, despite not being able to understand the reason for such strange orders. He did as he was told, wondering who would be at Riza's apartment. Someone had to be there to open the door for him, but he couldn't recall Hawkeye talking about a boyfriend._

" _Mustang?" Havoc let out in surprise as the brigadier general opened the door._

" _Be quiet, you moron. Come in."_

 _Havoc walked inside, still confused. He was afraid of drawing precipitated conclusions, but the situation was quite suspicious._

" _Did you bring the clothes she asked you?" Mustang asked._

" _They're here," Havoc said, giving him a bag he had._

 _Mustang got the bag and disappeared into the corridor to get changed. While he waited, Havoc took a look around at the apartment, looking for anything that confirmed his quickly formulated theory. Two wine glasses on the kitchen sink; a pair of slippers by the door that was far too big for Hawkeye to wear; and Mustang's military jacket lying on the couch. Havoc had more evidence than he needed to find out what was going on._

" _How long have you two been together?" he asked when Mustang walked out of the room, wearing the coat, shoes and hat Jean had brought._

 _Roy sighed, as their cover had been blown._

" _Almost a year," he answered. "I have some civilian clothes here, but just shirts and pants. And with this murder right in front of the entrance I can't get out in my uniform without someone recognizing me. They are already trying to find me and if they see me leaving her place it will raise suspicion."_

 _Mustang finished adjusting his borrowed coat and then looked at Jean. The second lieutenant didn't seem to find the situation funny. In fact, he seemed to be bothered by it._

" _Look, Havoc… I know this may seem reckless," Mustang started to say._

" _Reckless? More than reckless! What the hell are you thinking?" Havoc blurted out._

" _Careful, Havoc. Even in civilian clothes I'm still your superior, don't forget that," Mustang warned him. "We've taken all necessary precautions."_

" _I'm not talking about precautions, and if I'm helping you off the record, then I CAN, off the record, say whatever I want! Where is this leading?"_

" _Excuse me?"_

" _This secret relationship… Do you think you're being fair to her? What happens if she gets pregnant? She faces the world and raises a fatherless kid because you can't risk losing your job?"_

" _Of course not! First of all, I would never do anything to hurt her, you should know that, Havoc!" Mustang said angrily, stepping towards Jean in a menacing way. "Second, I do plan to marry her, I just can't do this right now."_

" _When you get to be the Fuhrer? How long will it take?"_

" _I'm not waiting that long. And most important, we are being careful, but if she got pregnant, screw my reputation, no child of mine would grow without a father."_

Staring at the night sky, Havoc waited patiently for Hawkeye to pull herself together. He knew how much she loved that man.

"You should get some sleep, Hawkeye. Once the sun rises, there will probably be more bombings and you won't be able to get any shuteye."

"I'll just report what happened to Colonel Bingham through the radio." Riza said, drying her tears.

"Bingham will be sleeping. Call him in the morning. We won't be going anywhere anytime soon and neither will he," Jean replied.

Riza was feeling terribly exhausted and sleep was essential during conflicts like these. A tired soldier might even pose a risk to others in the battlefield. Moreover, she had to admit Havoc had a point. Hence, she walked to the tents where soldiers were resting, leaving Havoc alone with his thoughts.

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 **A/N:** Yes, it's a Royai story! Gotta love those two, hahaha! I hope you liked it and will leave a review! I'm sorry for posting a little late, but I just came home from work. Have a great weekend and come back next Friday for more!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** FMA and the song used for the name of the chapter don't belong to me. But I have coffee. I don't need anything else right now. Coffee...

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Let me say a big thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and to my awesome beta-reader, ssadropout!

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 **Chapter 4 – Goodbye Blue Sky**

 _Goodbye Blue Sky – Pink Floyd_

The sun was beginning to rise and many people were still asleep when Mustang woke up to someone tripping against a box on the ground by his side. That guy, Lieutenant Havoc, had just walked into the improvised campaign hospital.

"Sorry, no need to wake up, General. I just came for this fella," he said, pointing at a chair a couple of meters away from Mustang's bed. Sergeant Fuery was fast asleep, almost falling off the chair. His head was hanging to the side and his glasses were half an inch from falling to the ground. Havoc had made quite a bit of noise, but the sergeant hadn't woken up.

Mustang watched quietly as Havoc shook Fuery somewhat rudely to wake him up.

"What? What happened?" the sergeant said loudly.

"Calm down, man. Hawkeye needs you to get the radio working. I think the bombshells overnight cut off part of the cables. She needs to report what happened to Colonel Bingham."

"Oh, okay. I can take care of that… I think," Fuery replied, uncertain.

Of course everything depended on how much of the cables had been lost, but the radio had to be working. Simple as that.

"Get some more sleep, General," Havoc said again, before they both walked away.

Mustang sighed and looked around. Where would he go anyway? He still didn't have any clothes to wear and he didn't feel like walking around in underwear. About half an hour later, the nurses started their rounds and Mustang got his breakfast, but wasn't able to find anyone who spoke his language. He tried asking for clothes to wear, showing the nurses he had only his boxers on, but nobody seemed to understand him. Either that, or they just didn't care that he was almost naked.

"Good morning, Sir," someone said in clear Amestrian, making Roy feel relieved for a second, at least until he realized that was another person who knew him, but he could not remember. A red-haired soldier introduced himself as Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda and sat by his side on the chair Sergeant Fuery had been sleeping on before.

"How are you doing apart from the memory loss?" Breda asked in a serious fashion.

"Ok, I think. Do you have any spare clothes I can wear? I can't walk around in underwear."

"I'll get you something to wear, don't worry, Sir. Pants and shirt? A pair of boots and socks too, right?"

"Please."

Breda nodded and went to the supplies tent, surprised at hearing a polite word from Mustang in this situation. The Mustang he knew would have gotten a new set of clothing the night before, after cursing angrily at the first person he found.

Not so far away from there, bombs started falling again, close to the base. As Xingese soldiers rushed to the hospital carrying the wounded, Fuery finally got the radio to work again by mending the cables that had been destroyed. Hawkeye would at last be able to inform Bingham of what had happened.

"What are our orders?" Falman asked as soon as Riza walked out of the communications tent, where they kept the radio receiver.

"We have to go back to Qyang as soon as they open the way. The Huaa Entrance has been taken by the Tahe and there is no way out of the slums now. Bingham said he will send two Amestrian companies here to help. Xingese reinforcements are coming too."

"That's good." Falman said, very relieved.

"Not so much. The Xingese reinforcements will be here by the end of the afternoon. Our own won't be here before nightfall tomorrow. We will be surrounded for most of the day and more militia keep coming."

"You don't think they'll get to this base, do you? Falman asked worriedly.

"Colonel Rong ordered his men to start digging trenches about a mile from here to avoid losing more ground. But honestly, I don't know."

Falman sensed Hawkeye wasn't happy with how the situation was being handled. In fact, Hawkeye didn't see much of a reason to build trenches. Barricading the streets should be enough, but Rong had ordered both. He believed the trenches would keep them safe from the bombshells. Hawkeye saw the trenches as a trap that would only bury soldiers alive. The ground in that region wasn't very firm and trenches could collapse easily. But Rong had his own way of dealing with things, and Hawkeye's opinion accounted for nothing there in Xing.

"What are we going to do now?" Falman asked the lieutenant.

"Colonel Rong will give us our orders. He says we are supposed to help like all the others. I managed to negotiate somebody to stay here with the brigadier general. I want you to stay, Falman."

Falman swallowed nervously. He would be safer there, but what about the others? If Hawkeye had ordered him to stay, she probably believed they would be in danger and Falman's lack of field experience might be troublesome for him. He decided that protecting Mustang should be his priority and saluted the first lieutenant with a loud "Yes, Ma'am!"

The Xingese soldiers soon started discussing their strategies and the fireteams were together again, ready for their new missions. Fuery, as a skillful radio technician, got called to the trenches in the northern area, to reestablish communication with the rest of the area that had been taken by the army.

Hawkeye watched, taken by a feeling of despair, as the short soldier looked at her one last time before following the Xingese soldiers. He seemed frightened, and Hawkeye could understand why. He had had some trench experience before, and that had been quite unpleasant, according to one or two situations in which he had mentioned it.

"Be careful," was all Hawkeye could say to Fuery.

"You too, Lieutenant," he said in a sad voice.

No soldier liked to say goodbye to others in a battlefield. There was no telling if that was the last time they'd see each other or not. Hawkeye turned back to the base and saw Colonel Rong coming. He already had plans for her.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye, you and Lieutenant Breda are going west. We've received information about civilians that are being kept as hostages in a school near here," Rong explained. "Lieutenant Havoc is with Lieutenant Lu-Hsing. Second Lieutenant Falman is the one staying with the general?"

"Yes, Sir," Riza answered.

"Right. I understand you wanted to stay with him yourself, but your skills will be of use out there. So you and Lieutenant Breda can go with Sergeant Tsai Shen," he said, pointing at a tall and sturdy Xingese man in his thirties, who was gathering his squad. "One of his corporals speaks a little Amestrian," Rong added, before walking away.

Hawkeye walked in Tsai Shen's direction and found Breda, already talking to a young Xingese corporal called Jun.

"Tahe take womans and kids for school and make mans fight soldiers," Jun was explaining. "We got man one hour ago and he said they fight our soldiers because Tahe make they fight. If they not fight, Tahe kill their families."

Jun called the rest of his men to inspect their rifles and guns and Breda turned to Hawkeye quickly to say, "We are going to this school and try to release the hostages. The Tahe is forcing civilians to fight for them. That's why we've encountered so many enemies."

Hawkeye just nodded, before both she and Breda saluted Sergeant Tsai Shen. He saluted them back, before saying something to Jun, who translated his words.

"He say thank you for your help. He say you have rank better, lieutenants, and he sorry that he have to tell you orders," Jun said, not showing any emotion. If Jun thought Tsai Shen's worries were justified or not, they'd never know.

"We understand, Sir," Hawkeye said.

Jun translated her sentence quickly and Tsai Shen just nodded in response, before asking them to show him their rifles for inspection. As everything was in order, the squad composed of two fireteams, eleven people altogether, marched towards another area that was slightly beyond the area under control of the army.

As they walked through the empty houses, crawling under windows and clearing each room before entering, Hawkeye felt her heart beating fast inside her chest. That was a dangerous mission and Breda and she might very well get shot or blown up by a grenade out there. With Mustang in the state he was, she just hoped nothing would happen to them. She wanted to go back to Roy, to make sure he would be all right. But right now she needed to focus on the mission ahead of them.

The streets were very narrow and tortuous in the slums. Houses were crammed together and connected to other houses through their small backyards or through narrow passages that gave access to other houses that were not directly connected to the street. Knowing the streets weren't safe, soldiers usually avoided them, going through the empty houses and passages, whenever possible. Most of these passages barely allowed two people to go through at the same time. Some were so narrow only one person could go at a time.

Sergeant Tsai Shen's squad made its way through empty houses until they found a somewhat wide street. There was quite a lot of noise in the area and there were Tahe men around. Crouching underneath the windows of a dilapidated shack, the soldiers used mirrors to look outside without being seen. The sun was hidden behind a cloud and they took the opportunity to evaluate the situation.

Jun whispered to Breda and Hawkeye what he had heard. Something about four men outside, apparently one of them very close and another one on a rooftop or some other place up high. Jun couldn't elaborate more and Breda and Hawkeye would have to wait to know what exactly was going on. The group waited about ten minutes, listening carefully to the conversations outside.

Breda was sweating already and his back started to hurt a little. He had sat on the ground in a not very comfortable position and kept his head low the whole time. He barely moved because he didn't want to make any noise. The Tahe men outside didn't know of their presence there. The Xingese soldiers kept listening to them, trying to find out if there were any other men they couldn't see. To Breda and Hawkeye, nothing they heard meant anything.

Finally, after what had seemed to be an eternity, Jun pulled Breda by his shoulder and whispered in his right ear, "Only four mans out, we kill the four mans and run in house. Follow me."

Breda told Hawkeye what Jun had told him and they both nodded quickly to Tsai Shen, who was staring right at them. Tsai Shen was the first one to move. He stood up suddenly, looking out the window and shooting a man that was about three yards away from them. The others ran outside, shooting a second man that had tried to run. Shots hit the ground, but missed the soldiers. A man on the rooftop yelled something, then turned around and tried to run. Jun followed him with two other soldiers. They used some rubble to climb onto the rooftop and shot like crazy, until the man rolled over and fell. More shots came from different directions and they jumped into a passage between two houses, disappearing in the middle of another group of small shacks.

Hawkeye and Breda ran outside but remained close to the walls. The fourth man was still inside one of the houses and putting up a fight. He pointed the gun at them and shot more than once through a small window. The walls of that house were made of bricks, since wood was something not always available in the Western Xing. The brick wall protected him well from the soldier's bullets.

If they couldn't get rid of that man soon, more would come and they would be surrounded. Feeling like her own skin exposed to the hot desert air made her a target, Hawkeye ran back into the house and to the backyard. She needed to find a way up quickly and she had seen some bricks piled up behind the shack. She climbed up and the sun shone right upon her. Up there on the roof, she could get shot at any moment. Her heart beat even faster and she gripped the rifle she had with all her strength before lying down on her stomach and crawling to the edge.

And finally, as the loud shots assaulted her ears, she got a glimpse of the shooter inside the house, the one they were trying so hard to take down. He was young man, probably a civilian. That man was probably scared out of his mind. He surely didn't even want to be there. Hawkeye shot him in his leg, making him fall but not killing him. The others would have a chance to take him without killing the poor man.

But when some of the soldiers rushed in, a shot and a loud scream echoed, followed by Tsai Shen's worried voice, giving them orders. More shots were heard and Hawkeye knew the man whose life she had tried to spare would be dead. Her heart skipped a beat. Hoping to God no one had gotten killed because of her, Hawkeye crawled back and got down, running to see the others. A Xingese soldier was holding a bloody hand, as another one checked his wound. The bullet had destroyed two fingers of his left hand, but he was alive, despite screaming and crying in desperation. The pain was excruciating.

It was Ishbal all over again, Hawkeye thought, as they ran quickly inside the house and confirmed that the man they had just killed was indeed a civilian, being forced to fight. The Guang Tahe men usually wore a sort of uniform, composed of a dark jacket with big pockets to carry ammunition, and military boots. All the rest were clothes of their own choice, but that dead man had no jacket or boots. His clothes were far too simple. Tahe men usually had enough money to buy something nicer.

Ishbal all over again. Killing people who didn't even want to be there to begin with.

Loud explosions were heard far away, and Hawkeye wondered where they had hit. Tsai Shen walked to the back of the house and they all followed. Soon they were exchanging shots with other men, Tahe or civilian. They didn't know. Hawkeye tried not to think of it. She looked to the side and saw the Xingese lad that had been hit. The lad had now a piece of cloth wrapped around his bloody hand and tried to hold a rifle, but his bloody remaining fingers were slippery and he cursed and grimaced in pain.

Not so far away from there, the temporary base – where the National Army was still stationed – resisted the attacks with all their soldiers' strength. Many civilians had managed to run in that direction and were allowed into the base, but some Tahe men had managed to get close enough to bombard the base directly. Shells had fallen and spread utter chaos. Rong had already dispatched yet another squad in that direction, to find who had attacked them with a mortar, or at least to find the observer that would be giving them information and direction. A mortar could fire from a mile away, but the shot had been right in the heart of the base, too precise to have been fired from far away, unless they had observers, communicating with the shooters using radios.

Rong now had ordered everyone that was in one piece to help in the base. Wounded people were being cared for in the hospital. Soldiers were watching the skies attentively, while others ran to the borders of their base, trying to ward off the enemies that had started to shoot at them. More soldiers kept bringing civilians to the base. People calling for help could be heard everywhere.

And in the middle of this mess, Mustang had found a way to make himself useful, despite anything that Falman said to try to keep him safe in the hospital. The nurses had discharged him – actually, kicked him out – when they needed the bed for somebody else. They had only given him a pill bottle full of some antibiotic. And to Falman's sheer terror, soldiers had given the brigadier general a rifle and the complete equipment the Xingese would carry in battle. Once he was dressed as an Eastern soldier, his features made him look as Xingese as most lads out there. The only thing that allowed the commanders to remember the fact that he was still an Amestrian officer was Falman, in his blue uniform, running after Mustang, constantly telling him to go back to the hospital.

Another bombshell hit the base, sending shrapnel everywhere. People were hit and screamed in pain, while others took cover in the holes in the ground. Rong had ordered his men to dig up holes big enough for two men to hide every four yards. This way, the soldiers could protect themselves from the shells that were being used against them. They weren't strong enough to take the sturdier buildings down, but they sent shrapnel flying with so much kinetic energy that people hit by them were literally torn to shreds.

"Mustang, Sir, please go back to the hospital!" Falman yelled yet another time as they both got out of a hole they had flung themselves into.

"We are being attacked, damn it! If they take over this base we will all be killed, no matter where we are!" Roy yelled back at him.

Rong had been forced to dispatch men in different directions, but now most of them were progressively returning to the base and the area under the control of the National Army was constantly under pressure from more Tahe men and the civilians they forced to fight for them. Gunshot around that area was constant. The militia had the advantage of not caring about who would be hit. They tossed hand grenades and didn't care if civilians would be hit along with soldiers. The soldiers however, had to use only their guns, because there were civilians running towards them every now and then.

They soon learned from the civilians that made into the base that they had been told to run in that direction, in order to keep the military from using handgrenades or their own mortars. Rong's companies had two in the base, but didn't risk using them.

Falman just followed Mustang everywhere, while they helped people get into the base and shot at others who weren't supposed to get through. Mustang seemed to have retained most of his battlefield knowledge in a sort of instinctive way, Falman noticed. Moreover, he was still as stubborn as he had always been. The last explosion had rendered a lot of injured, and Mustang joined the Xingese, running from one hole to another, looking for people who were still alive.

More cries of despair called Roy's attention and he slid into a bigger hole, where he found a man in uniform whose back and shoulders were covered in blood. Falman followed in and they both got the man by his arms, pulling him out of the hole. They needed stretchers to carry the wounded, but they didn't have any, so they improvised, holding the man by his armpits and legs and walked for almost fifty yards before stretcher bearers saw them and took the man themselves.

A Xingese officer went by them, shouting orders aggressively. He saw the two Amestrians and yelled, "You!" He then pointed at a stretcher being carried by two other soldiers and then pointed at the base. "Get one!" he yelled, threatening to shove Falman in the direction he wanted them to go.

"Let's go back to base," Falman said to Mustang. "We need to get stretchers," he added, defeated.

"Yes, Sir," Mustang answered energetically.

"Don't say that to me! I'm supposed to say that to you!" Falman yelled.

"Then why are you giving me orders?" Mustang complained as they ran towards the base again.

"Because you are temporarily incapacitated! And you don't follow them anyway!"

Somebody shouted not far from there, warning that another grenade was falling. Falman didn't speak Xingese, but his good memory had allowed him to learn the words that they used for things like 'bomb', 'grenade' and 'enemies'. The second lieutenant didn't even think twice. He grabbed Mustang by the back of his neck and pulled him down, both men landing onto the floor behind what was left of a brick wall. The explosion hit the ground very close to them, knocking part of the wall over Mustang and Falman.

"Are you okay?" Falman asked Roy, as the dirt went up in the air and he couldn't see the general.

"I am. You?"

"I think so," Falman answered, trying to control his shaking hands. He felt like curling into a ball and staying there until everything finished, but he had to fight his fears and stand up.

Falman caught himself thinking about the general by his side. How could Mustang be always so bold and remain in control under such circumstances? Falman didn't consider himself the brave type. He had to admit he was scared to death. But as the smoke dissipated and he managed to look at Roy, he realized something that he hadn't noticed before.

Mustang was looking around, trying to assess the situation. Falman saw clearly as Roy's legs shook when he stood up. Fear was all over his face.

"Back to base, Falman, let's get a damn stretcher!" he yelled, pulling himself together. "Go!"

They both took off and soon ran into other men carrying three stretchers tied up together. They got one and ran towards the limits of the army-seized area again, looking for injured people who couldn't walk on their own. Falman watched Mustang attentively. It wasn't that Mustang wasn't scared. He was probably as scared as Falman was, but he simply didn't stop. He kept on going, doing everything he could, despite the inevitable fear of getting mangled by a grenade or even killed.

That was the Mustang Falman knew, even without his memories. Scared as he was, he kept on going. At least that hadn't changed.

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 **A/N:** Nothing like exploding stuff. If you like to read about stuff being exploded, leave a review. If you don't, leave a review anyway. It won't kill you and it will make me happy. But you should like things being exploded. It's fun! hahaha! Thanks a lot for reading, reviewing, alerting and favoriting! See you next Friday!


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing! All I own is a terrible voice that I use to sing (and drive the neighbors nuts) the song which is the name of this chapter. So, the song and FMA, aren't mine! But my neighbors will continue suffering.

I want to say thank you to everyone who is reading, has left a review, favorited and alerted! And I have to thank my wonderful beta-reader, ssadropout!

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 **Chapter 5 – Viva La Vida**

 _Viva La Vida - Coldplay_

The light of day was beginning to fade away when Tsai Shen's squad made it back to the base, bringing along seven civilians. They were all children of different families, ages ranging from nine to fourteen. The youngest one was so weak Breda had carried him most of the way. The little boy barely weighed enough for the Amestrian lieutenant to feel tired.

The school had been guarded by not more than two Tahe men when the squad got there. Many militiamen had gone to the Huaa entrance to defend it, others had retreated further into the slums to gather. The Xingese reinforcements had finally clashed with the Guang Tahe in the outskirts of the Slum City and the two groups of militiamen had temporarily stopped fighting each other to stop the National Army from entering their territory.

At first Xing had sent six companies into the slums. A typical Xingese company was composed of about 150 men, so altogether, about 900 men had entered the slums. What seemed like a big amount at first, now proved to be far from enough, as the militia was composed of quite a lot of people. Moreover, they forced civilian men to fight for them. The army had been quickly outnumbered.

Hawkeye walked by Breda's side, keeping her gun in reach in case they were attacked. With a child in his arms, the red-haired lieutenant wouldn't be able to shoot back if anyone targeted him. When the tents of the base loomed over the roofs of the unsteady shacks, both Amestrians saw the destruction caused by a day of constant bombshelling and shootings.

There were holes in the ground everywhere; pieces of wood, bricks and rocks scattered all over; blood stains; and an occasional boot or piece of torn clothing abandoned amongst the rubble. The first thing Hawkeye did was look around quickly, hoping to find someone she could talk to, and ask if everyone she cared for was safe. The eerie scenery suggested otherwise.

They walked towards the dressing station and still saw only Xingese faces, until Hawkeye finally got a glimpse of a blue uniform in the distance. She left Breda with the civilians and the other soldiers and rushed towards the blue uniform she had seen. A few more meters and she identified Falman, and then Roy as well. They were both digging up graves far from the hospital, to bury the corpses before they started to rot.

As she got closer, she could see they were talking, but there was something about Roy's expression that showed he was quite confused.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye," Falman said, putting the shovel down for a minute and looking at her with relief in his face. "It's good to see you are all right. We were worried about you."

"I'm fine. Breda is fine too. We just arrived. Do you know anything about Havoc and Fuery?"

"We haven't seen Havoc. Fuery's the guy with the glasses, right?" Roy asked and continued when Hawkeye confirmed it. "We saw him come back from the northern trenches, but he was called again. He's some sort of communications expert, I gather?"

"He is," Riza replied, frustrated. "At least you two seem to be all right. But shouldn't you be in the hospital, General?"

"They needed the bed and I was doing much better already," Mustang explained.

Falman waited for Hawkeye's serious eyes to turn to him, but she didn't say anything.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye, let me ask you something," Mustang said, sticking the shovel into the ground and turning both his palms up so she could see the scars he had on them. "How did I get these?"

"I told him already, but he won't believe me," Falman said.

"A homunculus did that to you," Hawkeye replied. "King Bradley pinned you down using two swords," she continued, wondering how much Falman would have said about it. Considering Falman's ability to recall every fact in detail and his tendency to talk quite a lot, she believed Mustang would have heard everything about that already, even though Falman himself hadn't been there when it happened.

"I told you," Falman said, a little annoyed.

"This is crazy," Mustang groused. "Damn it."

"We haven't encountered any homunculi since the Promised Day, so you don't have to worry about it," Falman said.

"It's not that. I just…" Roy started, staring at the whitish marks in his skin, where the blades had perforated his hands before. "You are telling me we fought monsters who were trying to destroy our country. I was in the middle of all this and I can't remember. To me it sounds like another person entirely. It's… It's like I'm here trying to replace someone who's dead."

If only he had any idea how big the gap he had left was. Hawkeye sighed and tried to pretend the gap was the same for her as it was for everybody. A couple of months before they were so happy together, making plans for the future, hoping for a better life. And now, everything had crumbled to pieces. Hawkeye wondered if they would be able to get Roy's memory back somehow. Alchemy could be reversed, couldn't it?

A little voice in her head screamed, "It was too good to be true." Their relationship, their plans to go public with it, to get married, everything. Riza could still remember Roy sitting on the couch in the living room of her apartment, reading the newspaper ads.

" _What are you looking for?"_ she had asked.

" _Just taking a look at houses for sale._ "

" _Did you find anything nice?"_

" _There are quite a few small ones, but I think we're going to need something bigger."_

" _Bigger means farther from work, you know?"_

" _I know, but if we're going to have children, we should have a house with a nice yard for them to play," Roy said, putting the newspaper down for a moment._

She had smiled at him and sat by his side, looking at the ads he had found. Everything had felt so perfect, and life was so promising. At least until they learned about the train plundering in the desert. Xing needed help and they were there to give it.

"We still need to have an alchemist see you. Alchemy can be reversed, as far as I know," Riza said, smiling faintly at Mustang, looking in him for the Roy she knew.

The brigadier general smiled back, even though he wasn't so sure if his memory could be retrieved. However, there was something comforting about Lieutenant Hawkeye, something that alleviated his concerns and doubts a little. Maybe she was right, maybe his amnesia could be cured.

"Falman told me a lot about you. Thank you for worrying so much about me," he said, before telling the second lieutenant that he was going to get a wheelbarrow and bring the corpses they had to bury.

"What did you tell him?" Hawkeye couldn't stop herself from asking Falman once Mustang wasn't there to hear.

"He started asking questions about everybody," Falman explained. "Especially you. We've been digging for more than two hours and mostly I've been answering questions, at least until he asked about the scars he has on his hands. I ended up telling him about the Promised Day and everything."

After the attacks to the base had ceased, they had finally had the time to talk, and Mustang was desperate for information about his life and also about his subordinates, who had fought so hard to find him. Luckily for him, Falman was quite talkative, which made it a lot easier for him to ask questions. He had asked Sergeant Fuery about a few things before, but the lad was so tired he hadn't spoken much. He had ended up falling asleep on the chair, after Roy stopped talking to him.

Roy soon came back with a dead body in his wheelbarrow and Breda arrived as well, offering to help the general bring more bodies. One of the Xingese officers had told them they could bury the bodies all together to avoid more work, but they didn't have the heart to do that. They preferred to dig separate graves and give the dead some dignity. Soon they had used all the graves that had been dug and still more bodies remained.

"How many losses did we sustain?" Breda asked.

"The estimate is eighty-seven soldiers so far," Falman said and then added, "Another hundred and fifty at least were injured."

"That's a quarter of our men either dead or injured. They should have sent more soldiers right from the beginning," Breda complained angrily.

They finished burying all the bodies and stopped, watching the sun set in the distance.

"Rest in peace," Breda said, and they were all quiet for a minute or two. Sadness weighed heavily on their shoulders. Most of the lads they had given up to the earth couldn't be more than twenty years old. They walked back to the tents and found out others had buried the remaining dead bodies. They were free for the time being and they still didn't have any news of Havoc or Fuery.

The Amestrian soldiers started looking around for someone they knew could speak their language, but found nobody. Hawkeye suggested that they look for Havoc and Fuery in the dressing station and their concern grew considerably, as they all agreed it might be a good idea. They knew the eighty-seven deaths to be all Xingese, but they didn't know about the wounded, and more wounded were being brought. With the Huaa Entrance under control, some of the injured soldiers, the ones who were in condition to be moved but had no possibility of going back to the battlefield, were already being selected. They had only nineteen so far. The rest were either too severely injured to be moved or only mildly affected by their wounds.

In order to avoid a bigger commotion, only Hawkeye went inside the covered tents of the dressing station, one by one, meeting only Xingese faces, some of them who shot curious glances at her as she passed. Riza left one tent and went to the next one, not sure if she wanted to find her friends there or not.

"Lieutenant!" a voice called, and Hawkeye turned around to see Havoc, sitting on one of the straw mattresses that served as beds for the patients.

"Havoc," she called him back, walking around the improvised beds while the other soldier stood up. "Are you okay? What happened to you?"

"I'm fine, don't worry. I'm not injured," he said with an embarrassed smile. "I didn't drink any water the whole day and I was feeling hot as hell, but I didn't want to take my jacket off. I thought I'd lose it and it gets cold at night, you know."

Hawkeye breathed out in relief, knowing what he meant. The heat had gotten the best of him and he had been forced to rest, but he wasn't hurt. And as he was feeling much better, they both left the dressing station to meet the others. Havoc told Hawkeye he had watched the patients being brought in for the last two hours and Fuery wasn't there.

As soon as they gathered outside, they were told by Colonel Rong to light a fire and rest for the night. They couldn't take Mustang to Qyang yet because the way wasn't completely safe and the Amestrian reinforcements hadn't arrived yet. Two companies were on their way there, coming from the desert, and there seemed to be an alchemist with them, demanding to see the general.

"An alchemist?" Hawkeye asked, surprised.

"The order is to wait here until your alchemist has a chance to see the brigadier general," Rong explained. "Now you should rest."

"Sir, I'm sorry to bother you, but do you know anything about Sergeant Fuery?"

"Oh, it looks like we had to borrow him for quite a long time," Rong said, almost laughing. "Our army had just bought some radios from your country, but it's the first time we use them in battle and we were having trouble with them. I'm afraid your sergeant had a lot of work today. The latest reports say he is all right and he should arrive with his squad over the next hour."

Hawkeye thanked the colonel and saluted him, before excusing herself. She was happy to have some good news for the others when she came back to meet them. They got some wood from the supplies tent and lit a fire under the stars, to keep warm while they waited for dinner to be served.

Less than half an hour later, soldiers started coming from the Huaa Entrance. Squad after squad arrived in the darkness of the night, carrying supplies in backpacks and in carriages. The soup-kitchen was set up and a smell of food filled the air. Soon Sergeant Fuery came as well, looking very tired, but smiling. He plopped himself on the ground by the fire, apparently relieved to be back, carrying something wrapped up in his jacket.

"Finally, man! We were worried about you," Breda said.

"I'm fine. Just tired," the sergeant answered, before taking a quick glance at each person around, as to be sure all of his friends were unharmed.

"I wonder how long it will be before we can get some grub," Jean said, looking dreamingly at the soup-kitchen, from which steam had started to puff.

"It's probably going to take a while. We've taken in a lot of civilians," Hawkeye said.

The number of civilians was indeed very big. There at the base, they had around seven hundred soldiers stationed. By morning at least four hundred would be reallocated across the slums, to protect the trenches and continue evacuating civilians. That would leave three hundred of them at the base. But the number of civilians was now over five hundred, so they currently had more than a thousand people to feed.

And then, as everyone thought of the soup that would be served later, wondering if they would get enough to be satisfied, Fuery laid his jacket on the ground and produced a big loaf of bread and a can of lard.

"Where did you get that?" Riza asked.

"I was helping escort some civilians, and they gave me cigarettes and chewing tobacco as a gift. As I don't smoke, the other soldiers offered the bread in exchange for all the stuff I had gotten. I managed to bargain and get the can of lard as well. I covered it the best I could, but still it's got some dust on it. I hope you guys don't mind it."

"Mind it? You gotta be kidding," Breda chuckled.

None of them had eaten anything since morning, and even bread with lard and a little bit of dust was good food when one was hungry enough.

"Seriously, man! You're awesome!" Havoc said loudly, giving his friend a strong pat on the back, as the other got a knife to slice the bread. They all had some bread, leaving half of it for the next day. Fuery wrapped it carefully around his jacket again and left it by the fire, where rodents wouldn't dare touch it. They all pulled their sheets from their haversacks to cover themselves and waited for the soup to be served. Once they all had had a good meal, they lay down around the fire and slowly drifted off to sleep. The next morning would begin early, about an hour before sunrise.

Bombs started falling close to the base very early, hitting a trench to the west. There wasn't even daylight when men brought in an injured soldier and another dead body. The wounded man had been hit by shrapnel in the face and his ear had been cut off. He also had a bad looking tear on his right cheek, which went all the way from the corner of his mouth to an inch below his eye. Despite his horrifying appearance, he was walking and breathing well. He seemed as if he were just relieved to be alive. The same couldn't be said for his trench companion, who had been buried alive by the collapsing wall of sand and hadn't been rescued in time.

And once again, the base swarmed with activity. Soldiers were being deployed to different parts of the Slum City, while others remained at base. However, even with the reinforcements that had come the night before, they still didn't have a good amount of people to fight. Xing was a huge nation and uprisings had been very common in the last two years, since the new emperor had taken over. Thus, the soldiers the National Army had were necessary in many parts of the country at the same time. Ling didn't have that many free troops to spare. The emperor before him had left many sons and only one had made it to the throne, which had rendered quite a few disgruntled people who hoped for a chance to be the new emperor. Keeping peace and avoiding civil war was Ling's priority. But how much longer could the soldiers keep fighting in Zhu Xia?

"There are rumors that more Xingese troops will be sent here from the south," Falman said to Hawkeye as they both exited the communications tent after reporting to Colonel Bingham, who was in Qyang, waiting for the two Amestrian companies to arrive from the desert by train.

"Yes, but they are far away. They are coming from a desert base in the southern border," Hawkeye said without much hope. What was the point of depending on troops that were still days away? And those were the only soldiers that could be moved from their original base.

For now, all they could do was wait. Hawkeye would only be able to rest for a minute once they got Mustang back to Qyang, but the orders were now to wait for the alchemist who was coming with the Amestrian troops, due to arrive at the base at nightfall. Nightfall however, was still an eternity away. The constant shelling and shooting seemed to have the power to slow down time.

"How are you holding up?" Riza heard Havoc ask by her side, once Falman had left to talk to the others.

"I'm fine."

"Jeez, Hawkeye. After all these years I figured you could just be honest with me," Havoc replied with a sigh.

The first lieutenant almost had to stop and think about how she really felt. She had made such an effort to shut down all the bad feelings that consumed her that it was hard to assess how much she hurt.

"I am… just trying to keep it together. Somehow," she finally said, looking away from her friend.

"Just let me know if there's anything I can do. Or if you just want to talk," Jean offered, knowing that he was the only person there that knew about Roy and Riza's relationship and how much she should be suffering right now.

"Talk about what? Even _I_ don't understand how I feel right now," Hawkeye confessed. "He is and he is not the Roy I knew. I miss him terribly and yet he is right in front of me. I should be happy that he is still alive, but…"

She stopped talking before she failed to control her tears and started crying, but Havoc understood what she meant.

"I think we are all feeling lost when we talk to him. There's something terribly awkward about having the general around in that state. But I was talking to Falman and he actually agrees with me that his essence is still there."

"What do you mean?"

"Kind of like the core, you know?" Jean said. "The heart, the core of his character, and at least a good part of his personality. He's a lot more polite and more insecure, true, but he's still as bold as ever. And damn clever. Falman said he's been criticizing the Xingese strategies quite often."

"He didn't say anything offensive to any of the Xingese officers, did he?" Riza asked, slightly concerned.

"Oh, no, no. Just to Falman, but the second lieutenant said Mustang's observations were quite sharp. It's still him, Hawkeye," Havoc said with discreet but honest enthusiasm.

"Maybe it is," Hawkeye said, a little more light-hearted. Maybe there was still hope.

They walked back to the soup kitchen to get some breakfast and found Roy, sitting on a wooden crate just outside the tent, drinking coffee from his metal cup. He hadn't noticed them yet as he was looking in another direction. Riza just watched quietly as he blew on the surface of the hot liquid in the cup a couple of times, then gulped half of it at once, in a most ungracious way. Hawkeye had to try hard to stop herself from laughing. Roy always did that, gulped his drinks, even soup sometimes, in a way that got to her nerves. And she had never thought that such display of lack of manners would actually make her feel happy one day.

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 **A/N:** Thanks again for the great reviews and for reading this story. If you can, please let me know what you thought of this chapter. Come back for more next Friday! And my cat says that if you don't leave a review, the coffee fairy won't visit you next Monday morning.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything! I own only my cats. Or, to be more accurate, they own me.

I want to say thanks to everyone who left me a review and to my awesome beta-reader, ssadropout! Go check her stories, guys!

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 **Chapter 6 – Castle of Glass**

 _Castle of Glass – Linkin Park_

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Despite the early bombings, the rest of the morning passed by without much stress. Most of the soldiers were sent to different areas, while the civilians were slowly escorted, in groups of twenty at first, then thirty, and finally forty. By noon all the people who had been taken in the day before were evacuated to Qyang, from where they would be taken to a refugee camp. The only ones that remained at the base were hospitalized. Some of the injured, soldiers and civilians, had already been transferred to Qyang, while others still stayed in the hospital, hoping they would soon be able to leave. Everything was quiet. Too quiet.

Mustang had spent most of the morning sewing sheets that were used to wrap and carry equipment. Having been ordered to follow the general wherever he went, Falman diligently sewed his own share of damaged sheets, as both men shared the shade of a tent in the midday heat. Breda and Havoc were peeling potatoes in the kitchen, while Fuery had again been called to solve radio problems somewhere. Hawkeye had been helping a Xingese sergeant with weapon inspections since they found out about her expertise, but the sun was still high up in the sky when she was called to take part in a meeting. The Xingese officers had decided to hold an emergency meeting in the main tent, and she had been summoned as well.

"That's a bad sign," Breda said, once he and Havoc met Falman and Mustang outside. They had all finished their tasks and had been told to rest. The fighting might start again at the end of the afternoon, so they should be ready for it.

"Don't say that. Just don't think about it," Havoc groused.

"How can I not think about it? It looks bad, I tell you. It's too calm today."

"Then just be happy it's calm for now, dammit! Keep your adrenaline levels low and save your energy for when things get ugly," Havoc replied.

"I'm not wasting my energy!" Breda said, very annoyed. "I'm simply trying to be ready. Getting caught with our pants down isn't good."

"We'll be caught one way or the other, saying this kind of crap doesn't help any of us," Havoc said, raising his voice in an angry manner.

They both started getting carried away and Mustang finally began feeling irritated. What was the point of arguing over such a stupid thing? Especially when both of them were right about what they said. It was awfully quiet that day, but thinking all the time about what might happen could drive a person insane.

"You seriously think that this is going to last long? Just the four of us, sitting here, chatting the afternoon away?"

"No! It's not going to last! That's why we can't be paranoid, we need to rest a little so we can think clearly when the attacks do st-"

"Will you shut up the two of you!" Mustang vociferated all of a sudden, scaring both soldiers out of their skins.

"Yes, Sir!" they both answered at the same time, almost forgetting that the general didn't have his memory anymore.

Neither of them dared say another word for more than ten minutes. Even Falman seemed to have forgotten how to speak. Roy had to admit he was satisfied that his outburst produced such an effect. He was indeed worried and couldn't tell why. A gut feeling told him that something was wrong. Something was deeply wrong. And the shared feeling of something bad about to happen hovered over their heads for still quite a long time. Even in the trenches things had just become dull. Soldiers had been ordered not to try to expand the area under control of the army. All they had to do was hold their ground, but no one was attacking them. And in the main tent in the center of the base, the meeting now was going on for more than two hours.

At ten past four in the afternoon, when the heat was still strong but a little breeze had started blowing, sergeant Fuery came back from his assignment, only to meet the curious and hesitating faces of his friends. They were hoping for some information about the enemy.

"I just did some radio maintenance and they asked me to stay. They only let me come back now, but I didn't do much most of the day. It is quiet out there. We were mostly searching around the trenches for snake holes," he added with an expression of slight disgust.

There was a kind of desert snake that nested in holes in the ground, waiting for rodents and other animals that would crawl in, looking to escape from the sun. The problem was that they were poisonous snakes, and although the Xingese doctors knew how to treat patients bit by them, a poisoned soldier couldn't be back to battle for at least a week. Sergeant Fuery had already added the desert snakes to the list of things in that country he definitely wouldn't miss.

"That's nasty. Do you know how to find them?" Breda asked.

"They taught me how to identify the holes in which they stay. Not every hole is a snake nest," Fuery replied.

"Great. I need something to do, I can't stand being here not doing anything. I'm getting nervous already. Show me how to look for those holes, will you? I want to stay as far away from them as I possibly can."

"Okay," Fuery said, and both men were about to leave the group when Lieutenant Hawkeye came walking towards them.

The meeting had ended, and judging by her expression, she had just heard dire news.

"What happened?" Havoc asked as she sat on the ground by their side.

Riza folded her legs and let her arms rest on her knees for a while, not looking at anybody. Her silence increased the tension among them, until she decided to say something.

"Don't tell the other soldiers just yet, but Drachma has decided to interfere."

"Drachma? What do you mean? This is Xingese territory," Breda said.

"According to their government, Xing is conducting a massacre in Zhu Xia, and exterminating the "Western Desert People", or that's how they called the militia, at least."

"Western Desert People?" Falman asked. "I haven't heard this expression before."

"It hasn't been used before," Riza said, obviously concerned.

"They're trying to stir up a separatist revolution, aren't they?" Mustang said.

The other men stared surprised and scared at Roy, then looked back to Hawkeye, hoping this couldn't be right.

"Apparently," Riza confirmed, to everybody's desperation. "If this idea spreads, the whole region might join the conflict."

"But if they do that, this conflict will turn into a full-blown civil war!"" Fuery observed, nervously.

"What the hell is the point of doing such a thing? What does Drachma have to do with Xingese affairs?" Havoc asked Riza.

"If war broke out here, they could be the ones selling weapons to the militia and the separatists," Mustang explained again.

Havoc didn't know whether to be surprised at Mustang's sharp mind, or to be just angry that Drachma would profit over death like that. Hawkeye confirmed Mustang's observations again, and told them that Drachman soldiers had already left Drachma and were crossing the desert to get to Zhu Xia.

"But the two families were fighting since Tao Wang died. Do they have a new leader already?"

"We are not sure. But it's likely that they stopped fighting between them so they can fight only us now."

"Is that why it's so quiet today? The militia is actually waiting for the reinforcements to come!" Kain said, alarmed. "What are we going to do?"

"Colonel Rong said they are going to wait until five o'clock, when the temperature drops a little, and they will charge at them and arrest whoever is fighting for the militia until it gets dark. Any leaders of the militia are to be questioned and executed. Civilians working for them, if captured alive, will be questioned as well. Luckily the emperor didn't allow any methods of torture to be used on civilians, but the soldiers are allowed to be coercive."

"And militiamen will be tortured?"

"By assigned officers only, following some kind of protocol they have that doesn't allow extreme methods."

"The Xingese legal questioning methods are still much less aggressive than the ones our own officers used in Ishval," Falman pointed out, but his remark didn't make the situation much better.

Mustang, in the past, had been one to criticize Amestrian methods harshly. However, not until Grumman became the new Fuhrer had the methods been reviewed and the protocol changed.

"Well, looks like you'll get the action you were hoping for," Havoc said to Breda sarcastically.

"It still beats standing around and waiting," Heymans replied, and they all checked their guns again.

According to Hawkeye, they were supposed to remain at the base and wait for the Amestrian companies that were on their way. However, once the Xingese soldiers resumed their missions into the slums, there would be injured people, civilians and probably some retaliation to worry about.

"They are expecting the shelling to start again as a way of keeping the soldiers busy at the base," Hawkeye said.

"In that case, shouldn't we be digging more holes at least? So people can hide from the shells?"

"I suggested we build dugouts in the ground with all the material we've gathered from the houses that have been brought down," Riza said. "Colonel Rong isn't very familiar with this kind of construction, but he said he would order some of his men to come help us start building."

And indeed, ten minutes later, Hawkeye had twenty Xingese soldiers ready to follow her orders. Rong had picked strong and tall lads with healthy appearances, in order to show Xing's best. The only problem however, was that not one of them spoke Amestrian.

"They've got to be kidding!" Havoc complained, looking at the privates who awaited orders.

"We should build dugouts by the trenches," Fuery said. "So far they only have some bigger holes supported by wooden beams, but they are small and they also collapse easily."

"Let's settle for some dugouts here now."

"How big are they going to be?" Mustang asked.

"We will make them big enough for four men with their equipment only. The ground here isn't stable, so we had better not build anything too big," Hawkeye said.

They surveyed the area and marked the ground in a place that hadn't suffered much damage. It was relatively close to the ammunition tent, and they could use part of the dugout to store ammunition. It should be a series of dugouts connected by underground tunnels, going from the ammunition tent to the communications tent. There they could put a radio receiver underground and keep it safe.

Using pantomime and a good deal of swear words, Havoc got the Xingese privates to start digging and the group quickly got a move on, some digging, others filling sacks with the dirt, while some took the dirt that wasn't going to be used away. Sergeant Fuery and another soldier started sewing the sandbags shut, while Mustang took on the task of filling them. Breda and Hawkeye joined them and soon had to call more soldiers to help make the sandbags. Those would be piled up around the dugout, protecting its entrances.

Out of the base, the squads had been grouped into platoons and had started moving into the slums, looking for militia. They rarely encountered civilians now, because most of them had been forced to go further into the slums. Mostly militia stayed close to the army trenches, fighting the National Army back, despite their lack of enthusiasm.

And when the darkness settled over the land, the soldiers at the base lit up gas lamps and continued digging until dinner time. Havoc told them to come back there the next day, but wasn't sure they understood what he said. At least they had pretty decent, though rather small dugouts. There was a place to keep some ammunition, and enough space for four men to fit in each of the three different dugouts, connected by the tunnels. The dugout for the radio receiver would be the first thing they would get back to when the sun came back the next morning. They had cemented the ground and covered it with wooden boards. Now they would leave it to dry overnight and cement the walls the next day.

Colonel Rong came at nine thirty, to see the shelter and to also inform them that the Amestrian companies had reached the Huaa Entrance. Bombs had started falling around the borders of Zhu Xia, making the Entrance a dangerous place. Rong had already decided they would attack in a different direction the next day and try to take over another entrance into the slums, a sandy street that had been used to guide cattle in and out of the city. It wasn't good for carriages, but men could easily march through it, especially if they brought down the buildings that lined it.

"These are indeed very good," Rong said to Hawkeye, as he looked around the dugouts. "Are you going to cover them?"

"With corrugated iron sheets from the roofs of the houses, wooden beams and five to seven inches of sand."

"I'll let my men know that the roofs of the destroyed houses should be brought here. I'll see if I can spare some more men to continue digging these tomorrow."

Colonel Rong wasn't stupid. He recognized a good idea when he saw one, although he still hadn't changed his opinion about the trenches outside the base. At least his men were well-trained for the missions inside the slums. Rong had a good mind for this kind of operation.

"We should have dinner and get some rest now. Our companies will be here soon and the alchemist that wants to see you should be with them," Riza said to Roy, who nodded a slightly hesitant response at her.

The idea scared him a little. He wanted his memories back, but he feared it might not be possible. And the arrival of this so-called alchemist would finally give him the answer he was so hesitantly looking for.

However, due to the attacks to the Huaa Entrance, the two Amestrian companies only made it to the base at almost midnight, already carrying a few injured. All the soldiers were tired and not exactly ready to do anything other than try to get some sleep. But the alchemist that was with them, was hoping to see Mustang as soon as possible.

"Colonel Bingham, Sir!" Hawkeye saluted the blond bearded officer when he met her in the main tent, along with the Xingese officers.

"First Lieutenant Hawkeye, Colonel Rong," he replied, seriously. "First of all, I must say that Amestris is glad to honor our allegiance and we are here to fight for your people as we would fight for our own."

"It's an honor to have you as allies," Colonel Rong said, shaking hands with Bingham. Amestris' help was indeed most welcome and both countries benefitted from their alliance, militarily and commercially speaking.

Riza was hoping Bingham would soon mention the alchemist that had supposedly come with them, but the colonel didn't say anything about it. They informed the man of everything that was happening and Bingham just nodded in response quite a few times, as he already knew most of the information they had so far.

"My men will fight following my orders, but I will answer to you, Colonel Rong," Bingham explained. "Amestris understands that Xing is a sovereign nation and we will respect your wishes while here."

Rong was truly delighted to have help from a foreign country that didn't pose a threat to his authority. Bingham was indeed very careful. He knew how important the relations between the two countries were, and he actually hated being in the middle of all this. Were any diplomatic incidents to happen, he feared he might be blamed for them. And as soon as he had made it clear that he would follow their orders and the meeting ended, Bingham turned to Lieutenant Hawkeye and gave her an envelope.

"Sir?"

"I am counting on you for counsel," he said, as they both left the tent. "You know well what is going on here and you know about Brigadier General Mustang better than anyone."

Riza was barely listening to him now, as she held a document, trying to read it under the faint light of a gas lamp hanging from a pole outside the tent.

"Congratulations, Captain Hawkeye," Bingham said. "You have been promoted. And as captain, I expect you to help me. At least until Mustang is back to his normal self."

Hawkeye managed to muster a "Yes, Sir," though still quite surprised. She definitely hadn't expected a promotion under such circumstances. But there were other things she was interested in at the moment.

"Colonel, we were informed that you had an alchemist among your men."

"Oh, right! Yes, we do. Actually, that information leaked and we were attacked as soon as he got close to Zhu Xia. I had the alchemist disguised as a soldier and we tried to make it look as if that had all been a mistake. Still they gave us hell, until we transmitted some fake information that our alchemist was on his way back to Amestris," Bingham explained wearily, before adding, "Let me take you to him."

Mustang and his subordinates had already fallen asleep around a fire they had made. The night was quiet for now and there were many men to guard the base. Only Breda remained awake, keeping watch so as to wake the others up if anything happened. He would call Havoc at two o'clock and they would switch places, but that would take still another hour. Breda yawned and threw some more wood in the fire to make it stronger. He then raised his head to look around for what would have been the fifteenth time and tried to locate Hawkeye. This time, he finally saw her walking towards the group, accompanied by another uniformed lad, one that Breda only recognized when the guy stood about a meter away from him.

"Alphonse?" he said, very surprised. "What are you doing in uniform?"

The others moved around on the ground, sitting up to see what the noise was all about. Apart from Mustang, they were all very surprised as well. They had known Alphonse was traveling around Xing, but they hadn't expected to meet him there, especially considering Xing was such a big country. And even more surprising than that, Al was dressed as a soldier, carrying all the standard equipment, shotgun included. He could have easily been mistaken for a young private. He was almost the right age to be one, deployed to his first mission like so many others.

"I had to pretend I was a soldier," he said. "Colonel Bingham said they would go to any extent to kill me if they knew I was an alchemist."

Mustang still remained sitting on the ground, looking slightly annoyed at the lad. He seemed way too young, and quite scared. And still, he had come all this way, joined the companies in the middle of that terrible conflict, to help him?

When Alphonse looked at him, Roy finally decided to stand up.

"I'm Alphonse Elric, Sir," the boy said, reaching out to shake hands with him.

"I'm Roy Mustang. Although I'm not sure I need to introduce myself to you," he said.

"I've known you for a few years," Al said. "Colonel Bingham told me about what happened."

"I'm sorry about all this. And thank you for coming such a long way," he said embarrassedly, before he let go of Al's hand.

"How did you end up here? Did Bingham go looking for you?" Sergeant Fuery asked the boy.

"No, I went looking for him."

Alphonse had been traveling more or less close to Qyang, when he saw the news in the newspaper, about Mustang's kidnapping. He had seen the picture on the first page and one thing called his attention. The photograph showed Mustang, untied, being forced to kneel while militiamen pointed guns at him and one of them held him by the shirt aggressively. Roy had his gloves on in the picture, so why wouldn't he react?

"Then it occurred to me, that if he didn't use his alchemy though he wasn't restrained, they might have done something to his memory," Alphonse explained.

"It seems my alchemy would have been very useful if I could remember how to use it," Roy said.

"I had been doing some research in Alkahestry, and I found the amnesia techniques very interesting. I started researching them specifically, and heard that they are still used quite often in the desert, as a hunting technique. They use it with big arrays to disperse herds of migrating animals."

"Those techniques have been banned for years," Falman said.

"Yes, but the government doesn't have much control over this area," the younger Elric replied.

"So, do you know how to fix this?" Mustang asked squarely.

"If the technique used on you is of the reversible kind, yes, I may be able to fix it."

"And if it's not a reversible kind, then I'll be like this forever," Roy said, trying not to keep his hopes up, afraid of being disappointed. He had to be prepared for the worst.

"I'm afraid so," Alphonse said in a sad tone.

Mustang was a brilliant alchemist and commander. Even though Alphonse's older brother, Edward Elric, didn't like the brigadier general much, Al thought that Mustang was a good man. Manipulative, maybe; arrogant, definitely. He wasn't perfect. But now that Al had met a Mustang stripped of his arrogance and self-confidence, he thought that Roy didn't seem to be half the man he had known before. There was something about the general that had always made the young alchemist feel safer when he was around him. He definitely wanted to help Mustang recover his memories.

"How do we determine what kind of technique was used on him?" Riza asked the boy.

"That's going to be a little more complicated. Let's sit down and I'll explain everything," Alphonse suggested and they all agreed, eager to know more about what had happened to Roy. Having the boy there gave them hope they hadn't felt in quite a few days.

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 **A/N:** Hello guys! Thanks a lot for reading the fic and come back for more next week. My brain has drowned in coffee without much effect, so I'll just say goodbye for now. See you again soon!


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA or the song used for the name of this chapter. Don't sue me, because if I get all the money I have this month, I can probably buy a bag of doritos. (I said probably).

I want to say thanks to everyone who's reading this fic and a big thank you to my awesome beta-reader, ssadropout!

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 **Chapter 7 – Demons**

 _Demons – Imagine Dragons_

* * *

As the cold wind blew on them, the group of Amestrian soldiers sat closer to the fire to discuss the latest events and Mustang's case of amnesia. Hawkeye told the others about her promotion and what Bingham expected of her, and though worried about how much the conflicts were going to escalate, they decided to put the matter aside for a while.

"Basically, there are two main categories of alkahestry amnesia techniques; the ones that erase the memories and are irreversible, and the ones that only block them, preventing access. Those can be totally reversed if the block is undone," Alphonse explained.

"And can you tell which kind was used on him?" Havoc asked.

"Not by alchemy or alkahestry, but the reversible kind is not a hundred percent efficient. Memories can leak and come back, as if the block was a wall and somebody poked a hole in it. Once that happens, the wall weakens and leaks become easier to produce."

"I haven't had any memory leaks," Mustang said, feeling his stomach sink inside his body.

"Considering how much stress you must be under, it would be very difficult for that to happen," Alphonse said. "I've seen people being treated for this kind of amnesia. I saw a case in which the patient had had his memory blocked a long time ago and the block couldn't be completely broken anymore, but they managed to produce so many leaks he actually recovered about sixty to seventy per cent of his memories."

"What is your plan then, Alphonse?" Hawkeye asked.

"First of all, I want to see if there is still a connection between Mustang and the place where they performed the reaction. If his memory was just blocked and not erased, we can use the energy link to break the block. We would have to find the exact place and perform an inverse reaction there."

"But you need an energy link?"

"Yes," Al continued.

According to the alchemist, the Xingese version of alchemy used the energy flow in a different way, and to access a person's mind and cause the amnesia, the reaction used the own subject's energy. But the energy lingered at the place of the transmutation for days or even weeks, depending on the specific kind of technique and on the skills of the person performing the transmutation. That energy, if still present, could be used again to break the block and reverse the process.

"I want to do a simple diagnostic transmutation and determine whether there is still a link between Mustang and the place where the transmutation was performed," the younger Elric concluded.

"Ok, but how are we going to find the place? Even if it is in the house they kept me hostage, I don't remember how to get back there," Roy said.

"That isn't a problem."

Alphonse got a notebook with yellowed pages from his haversack and started drawing an alkahestry symbol on the ground. He had to make it quite big, about a meter in diameter, because it was a rather complex array. The others watched in silence, Mustang marveled at how intricate it seemed to be. He was supposed to be quite skilled in that science as well, and the idea made him even more curious.

"I thought you didn't need a transmutation circle," Havoc observed.

"This kind of transmutation requires one because it's a diagnostic tool," the boy explained. "Okay, now I need a compass," he added.

Fuery got one from his pocket and handed it to the boy, who put it in the middle of the symbol. Al checked his notes again, then touched the rim of the drawing and asked Roy to do the same. Mustang kneeled on the ground and placed both his hands in the circle, eager to find out what was going to happen. The array started emitting a faint light at first, but it grew stronger in a matter of seconds, until it shone considerably.

"Look at that!" Breda said, when the compass in the middle of the array started spinning wildly. The little hand inside it, which was supposed to point to the North, now spun madly, until it came to a halt abruptly, pointing to the Northeast.

"The connection still remains. It's not that strong, but it's rather good. It should last at least a few more days," Alphonse said with a smile. "And now we have to determine if the general still has his memories or if they have been erased."

"Is it pointing to the place where the transmutation was performed?" Hawkeye asked, as she noticed the compass indicated the heart of Zhu Xia, from where Mustang had escaped days before.

"Precisely. We can find the place using this."

Everyone smiled guardedly, as they still couldn't be sure if Mustang's case was reversible or not.

"How long ago was the transmutation exactly?"

"I can't tell for sure because they had me locked up in a dark basement, but I believe it's been five days," Roy said.

He hadn't been able to determine how long he had been in the basement because he couldn't see the light of day there.

"You were kidnapped exactly six days ago," Riza told him.

"Six days then. And when did you escape?"

"Three and a half days ago," Roy replied.

"I see. So it shouldn't be so difficult to access some of your memories now, as long as they haven't been erased."

They were expecting Alphonse to begin another complicated symbol and find out what kind of technique had been used, but the alchemist had something completely different in mind.

"We'll try to produce a leak in his memory. It's the only way I know."

"Using alkahestry?"

"No, alkahestry can't do that. We'll need to tell him things from the past an-" Alphonse started to explain, but soon noticed the reaction of everyone around and stopped talking.

"Fuck…" Havoc cursed, followed by other mumbled curses from Breda.

"What's wrong?"

"Don't you think we've done this before?" Havoc snapped at him. "Mustang, did you remember anyt-"

"If I did, I would have told you!" Roy cut him off very frustrated. He had begun to believe there was a way for him to recover from his amnesia, but it had only given him false hope, to throw him back into the void.

"Just let me explain!" Alphonse asked them in a loud voice. "He didn't recover anything because he's under a lot of stress! The block is still strong, so we need a kind of hypnosis or meditation, or at least he needs to be very calm and relaxed!"

"Are you serious?"

"Yes!" Alphonse said, almost begging them to believe him.

"Wait, just one thing... If Mustang used his alchemy after they caused his amnesia, wouldn't that be a leak?" Fuery suggested.

After all, that's how Mustang had escaped, using his flame alchemy to kill Tao Wang, even if he had done it by accident.

"I'm pretty sure I didn't do anything like that," Mustang pointed at the circle.

"No, but your alchemy is different, Sir," Hawkeye explained. "You used it on Tao Wang," she added hesitatingly.

Roy had been told he was an alchemist, but no one had told him his alchemy involved flames. As he had ditched his gloves and didn't have them anymore, they believed he wouldn't use it by accident again.

Mustang looked at her confused at first, but quickly realized in shock, what she was referring to. He had thought that maybe Tao Wang's clothes were made of some flammable material and one of the gas lamps that had been placed on the floor could have been too close to him.

"When Tao Wang caught fire… That was _my_ alchemy?"

"Yes, it was. Flame alchemy," she replied.

"That horrible thing was _my_ doing? Why didn't you tell me? I didn't have any control of it when I used it! Didn't it cross your mind that I could have done something like that again and killed somebody else?" he asked her angrily.

"He used his alchemy?" Alphonse asked Falman.

"On Tao Wang."

"But for that to be a leak… The amnesia transmutation would have been too recent, I'm not sure this could have been a memory leak."

"Sir, you need your gloves to ignite the fire. You don't have them anymore," Breda said.

"Like there isn't anything else I can use out here to ignite a fire!" Roy yelled at them.

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you," Hawkeye said. "I was planning to, but I ended up not doing so."

"Brigadier General!" Alphonse called the man.

"What?" he spat angrily.

"Were you calm and focused at the time? When you used your alchemy?"

"Kid, that guy threatened to torture me to death, pointed a sword at me and attacked. I was in panic!"

Alphonse nodded knowingly. It hadn't been a memory leak.

"But what was it then?"

"Motor learning. Just like walking, talking and writing. This kind of information has been stored in a different part of his brain. He may not remember the theory, but it is likely that if he still had his gloves he would have done it again."

"I would need to have used this flame technique many times for that to be motor learning, wouldn't I?" Mustang asked uncertain.

"I'm afraid you did, Sir."

Roy was quiet for a while, lost in his thoughts as a wave of angst washed over him. Such a technique would be used to kill people. They told him he had fought in that place Ishval and had gotten quite a reputation there. Was that reputation thanks to that flame alchemy they now were talking about?

"Fuck."

"Sir?"

Mustang rose suddenly, his hands clenched and shaking as he did so.

"How many did I kill with this hellish alchemy of mine?" he asked, very disturbed.

"Sir, your alchemy may have taken many lives, but it also protected our own men. It's not a nice part of your past, but…" Hawkeye said, though she got lost in the middle. What could she say? Roy's doings in Ishval had tormented him for years. He had been used as a human weapon and he hated himself for having killed so many. How could she make him understand such a complex situation?

"This is why you didn't tell me about my alchemy, isn't it? Because anyone can tell how horrible such a technique is!"

"Sir, please let us explain," Falman tried to reason with him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Mustang shoved him aggressively and then turned to the others.

"Well, I'm sorry to say this, but the Mustang you knew, he's dead! And I say, let him be! It's much better like this!" Roy yelled.

"General, wait!" Havoc said, but had to step away before Roy shoved him as well.

"Don't call me that! Stop calling me Sir and General all the time! It's Roy! Just that! You get it? I'm not that man!"

And as everybody stared at him shocked at his outburst, Roy turned around and walked away, leaving the group behind. He didn't know who he was, but he knew who he didn't want to be. And there had to be much more that they didn't tell him. How much more could he find out that he would despise?

"Real smooth, Fuery," Breda complained.

"I thought it had been a leak!" Fuery said nervously, very ashamed.

"Damn, what are we going to do now? Can we recover his memory without his collaboration?" Jean asked Alphonse.

"I don't think so," Alphonse said.

"I hate saying this, but he was really disturbed, the whole situation is very hard on him, and…" Falman started to speak.

"And what?"

"He still has a gun. I don't think he should be alone."

"Dammit!"

The soldiers all split up and went looking for him. The base was big but he shouldn't have gone too far in the dark. They looked into the tents, searched all places they could find, behind every pile of crates, into every hole dug in the ground, and in the dugouts as well, but found nothing.

Sergeant Fuery walked in the dark guided by the weak light of his gas lamp. He was cursing at himself for having mentioned Mustang's flame alchemy. If only he hadn't said anything… If Mustang did take extreme measures and killed himself as Falman feared he might, Fuery wouldn't ever forgive himself. He walked around the communications tent and into it again, but saw only Xingese privates playing cards and staring confused at him.

Roy might have gone to some place further, but where? He wasn't at the hospital, or in any of the tents. He would have looked for some place quiet. Fuery forced his mind to think and remembered there was an area in which they had buried a lot of dead soldiers before. It was awfully quiet there, as the Xingese were quite superstitious and preferred to keep their distance from cemeteries.

And as he walked among the unmarked graves, he finally saw somebody, sitting on a pile of wood. As Kain got closer, he finally identified – very relieved – Brigadier General Mustang. The light of Kain's lamp drew Roy's attention and the general cast a glance towards him, before looking down again at something he had in his hands. The sergeant walked closer but stopped, as he realized Falman had been right. Mustang was fingering the cold metal of a gun, looking at it as hypnotized. It was pointed at the ground, but Fuery didn't like the look he saw in the general's eyes.

"Roy," he called, as the other had made it clear that 'sir' was not an appropriate word right now.

"What do you want?" the man asked, not looking at him.

Fuery looked desperately for words. He felt too young and inexperienced compared to the general, who had lived through so much by the age of thirty-one.

"I thought that we could talk. Or maybe I can just sit here and be quiet if you prefer. But I'd rather you gave me that gun. Please," Fuery said, walking closer to him. Mustang gave no sign of handing him the gun.

"Who am I?" Mustang asked in a tired voice, a voice that conveyed a lot of sadness.

Fuery stepped by his side and sat on the ground slowly, placing the lamp he had between them.

"Who am I, really?" he asked again.

He was Brigadier General Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, and a brilliant officer who dreamed of becoming the Fuhrer. But Fuery sensed that wasn't the answer to the question the other had made.

"Is it okay if I answer your question from my own point of view?"

As Mustang didn't say anything, Fuery looked slowly at him again. Roy still held the gun, pointing it at the ground and staring at the object, as if still contemplating the idea of finishing everything. Again, Fuery asked if he could take the gun, but when he got no reply, he just turned to the darkness that surrounded them and continued speaking.

"When I was assigned to work with you I was pretty excited. You already had quite a reputation at the time. And I remember I told you when we first met that it was an honor to work under the Hero if Ishval, as they called you. But you told me right then, that there is no such thing as a hero of war."

He stopped talking for a moment, as he could remember that day very well. He had felt quite confused and thought that maybe Mustang was just being modest. However, he had soon realized the man wasn't exactly modest about his abilities, though he didn't boast unnecessarily, in order to avoid calling attention he didn't need. He wasn't being modest. The Hero of Ishval didn't consider himself a hero at all.

"I guess it took me some time to understand what you meant. And I know you did many things you didn't want to do in Ishval, but different from other soldiers, you never tried to justify yourself. You admitted that the Ishval War had been all wrong and decided you would do everything you could to prevent something like that from happening again."

The sergeant looked at Roy again, and saw that the gun in his hands was still pointed at the ground, and Mustang hadn't moved an inch.

"You know," Kain continued, "somebody once said to me that soldiers are merely tools in the hands of people who have more power than they do. And I thought, 'Gee, if that's true, then I'm lucky to be a tool in the hands of somebody I can trust.' I think that in that matter, I had a lot more luck than you did."

Fuery sighed and asked for the gun again, but Roy kept quiet like he hadn't even heard him.

"Too many people would miss you if you pulled that trigger."

"What's the point? I'm not the person they'd miss," Roy said. "And still I couldn't pull it. I thought I could just end this now, but I felt like such a coward, trying to run away from my own self."

"Then don't do it. Don't do this to us, please," Sergeant Fuery begged the man, clearly showing how nervous he was feeling this time.

 _Don't do this to us._ He could have said 'don't do this to yourself', but he had said 'to us'. Mustang sighed, his frustration overwhelming him. He couldn't do that. He couldn't commit suicide. It wasn't right. He had tried to negotiate with himself, and justify his own reasons to escape, and he was almost getting there; almost convincing himself that it was OK to take the easier way out. But suicide felt like it was against his principles. He couldn't remember what made him feel so strongly against it and therefore made it so difficult for him.

"Will you let me take that? You really don't need to do this," Kain insisted, his voice growing more and more concerned.

Kain finally made an attempt at getting the gun from the general and found no resistance. It slipped easily out of the general's hands.

"There are many people who trust you, and you didn't get that trust for free. But you need to trust _us_ now, Sir," Fuery said, placing the gun in an extra holster he had.

Roy was going to say something, but both men heard Hawkeye's voice in the distance and Fuery stood up, calling her. She joined them, very relieved to see Mustang again, apparently calmer now.

"It's okay. Everything is fine." Roy heard Kain tell her.

Hawkeye also sat by Roy's side, but a lot closer. She placed her own gas lamp on the ground and looked apologetically at the general, obviously still very worried.

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you before. I was going to, but with so much going on, I thought we could leave that for later," she explained.

"It must be pretty pathetic, but I actually feel scared. Scared that I won't be able to recover my memories, and scared that I will, but won't like what I'll find out about myself," Roy confessed, painfully.

And though he was expecting some vague consolation words, Hawkeye didn't speak. She wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled Roy closer, letting his head rest on her shoulder for some time.

"It's okay to be scared, Roy. And whatever happens, you're not alone. We will always be here."

They were quiet for a while, until Hawkeye asked Fuery to go and tell the others everything was okay. They would still be looking for Mustang, and there was no more reason for them to worry.

Once Fuery wasn't there anymore, Riza caressed Roy's head, and felt him relax a little by her side, as his head weighed more heavily on her shoulder.

"It's okay, Roy. It's okay," she said in a very low, calm voice, not moving. Roy rested on Riza's shoulder for about five minutes and then moved away from her a little, but didn't stand up. Riza wanted to hug him and tell him he would be all right. She desperately needed him to be all right. He was her life, he was everything to her, and yet he had no idea.

"You're crying," Roy said, in a sad and concerned tone.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he replied, uncertain. He knew the situation had to be hard on his subordinates, but he now felt there was something else that made it more difficult for Hawkeye. And then something occurred to him. Slowly, afraid that she would step away from him, he reached for the chain she had around her neck, in which she should have her dogtag. He pulled it gently and it slipped out of her jacket, shining slightly in the dark. There was a dogtag in it as he had expected, and a ring.

Since Roy had found out he had a ring in the chain around his neck, together with his dogtag, he had been wondering if somebody had the other one, and why he didn't just wear it like anyone would wear a wedding ring.

"You have the other one," he said, only now beginning to understand what a terrible ordeal his situation was for Riza as well.

"Yes," she replied.

"Why do we both hide them?"

"We can't get married yet, but we were planning to. Fuhrer Grumman had promised to help us," Riza told him.

"Does anyone else know?"

"Only Havoc and Fuhrer Grumman know about us."

What a messed up situation. Roy remembered that just minutes ago he had been contemplating the idea of killing himself and now felt angry and ashamed. He should have remembered the ring. He meant something to many people, regardless of the bad things he had done in the past. How could he have even thought about suicide?

"I'm sorry that you have to go through this. I didn't know about us."

They were sitting in the dark, side by side, watching the fire burn inside the gas lamp for a long time. Mustang closed his eyes and opened them again slowly, but just as if a movie had started playing inside his head, the darkness remained, making everything else disappear.

He was lying in a bed, in a place that smelled like antiseptic, and he could hear only Riza's voice, speaking at a slow continuous pace, as though she was reading a book out loud.

" _This is the Death whose particular sphere of operations is, well, not a sphere at all, but the Discworld, which is flat and rides on the back of four giant elephants who stand on the shell of the enormous star turtle Great A'Tuin, and which is bounded by a waterfall that cascades endlessly into space." *_

" _That must be the craziest description of the universe I've ever heard," Roy said with a laugh._

" _It's a fiction book," Riza replied. "Would you like me to stop reading?"_

" _No, no. You can go on. Who lent you that book, by the way?"_

" _Falman bought it for me in the bookstore across the street. He said it was written by quite a popular author, but I don't think he read the book."_

" _I see. It doesn't sound like Falman, reading this kind of story. But keep reading if you don't mind. I like to hear your voice."_

"Hawkeye?" Roy called her, as they stood up to go back to where the others were resting.

"Yes?"

"Falman said I got blind for some time after that Promised Day and I was in hospital. Were you in the same room?"

"Yes, I was also injured," she replied, though confused. Why would he be interested in that all of a sudden?

"You wouldn't have happened to be reading a book one day, would you? Something about the world being a flat disc carried by four elephants on the back of a giant turtle?"

Riza was speechless at first, which made Roy think he shouldn't have said something that made so little sense. But Hawkeye did remember reading the book. During those days when Roy was blind, he had been happy to chat and listen to other people speak. It was the best connection he could establish with the world, as he couldn't see anymore. And Riza had discovered that simply reading a book to him made his blindness much more tolerable. They had gone through two different books before Roy recovered his sight, and Roy had just mentioned part of one.

"You remember," she said, smiling at him. "You remember it."

"It's a real memory, isn't it?" Roy said, then laughed. "A giant turtle floating in space and carrying the world on its back… Falman gave you a really strange book."

"It wasn't bad," Riza said, laughing. "It's a real memory! That's great news."

And despite the possibility of being seen, Hawkeye took a step closer and hugged the general tight. He hugged her back, feeling confident again for the first time. Whoever he was, he wasn't going to run away from himself. He was going to face his own problems and deal with them as best as he could. And if at any time he couldn't cope anymore, he wouldn't be alone.

* * *

 _*This quote is from the beginning of 'Mort', by Terry Pratchett, who unfortunately passed away last year. My favorite writer ever. I felt so sad when I heard._

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello guys! Another chapter! A little more messed up, I know. If you haven't heard the song I used for the name of the chapter, I recommend it. It's a great song and I think it fits Roy very well. If you can, please leave a review. I'm always happy to have at least a couple of them per chapter. Thanks a lot again to everyone and see you next Friday!


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything! FMA belongs to the cow, Soldier Side belongs to System of a Down. All I own is an S.O.D. CD, for my neighbors' desperation.

I want to say thank you to everyone who's reading and everyone who has left me a review. I also want to say thank you to my great beta-reader, ssadropout!

* * *

 **Chapter 8 – Soldier Side**

 _Soldier Side - System of a Down_

* * *

Mustang and Hawkeye only got back to where the others were at almost three thirty. Havoc was the one keeping watch now. Fuery, Falman, Breda and Alphonse were lying around the fire, sleeping. Roy sat down without saying a word and felt Havoc's gaze fall upon him. The second lieutenant didn't say anything, but Roy felt that Sergeant Fuery would have told the others about what had happened. In fact, as he sat down, he noticed Breda was awake, staring at him as well. The red-haired soldier didn't say anything either and closed his eyes again to sleep.

"Are you okay?" Riza asked him.

Roy nodded in response, even though he wasn't feeling okay at all. He now wished he had asked sergeant Fuery not to let the others know about their conversation. And Hawkeye didn't know about that yet. She hadn't talked to Fuery. But she'd learn of it soon.

"Hawkeye," he called her in a whisper.

Riza sat by his side and got closer so she could hear his low voice.

"Sergeant Fuery will probably tell you about our talk just before you arrived. I just want you to know that I couldn't do it."

"Do what?" she asked, confused.

"Kill myself," he replied sadly, very embarrassed.

Riza looked away from him for a second, then turned to the general again, but didn't say anything at first. She had been so worried about the conflicts and keeping the general away from the bombshells that she had underestimated Roy's mental condition. How could she have thought that merely keeping him alive until they got his memories back would be all?

And then it occurred to her that she had been distant because it was so painful for her to see him like this, still the Roy she knew, but not himself anymore. He didn't know anything about her or any of the guys. She had tried to remain calm by constantly telling herself that it was simply a matter of getting the memories back and not letting Roy be hit by bombshells.

"Were you thinking of committing suicide?" Riza asked, painfully.

"I'm sorry. I was thinking about it, but I couldn't do it."

Hawkeye felt her whole body weaken. She had been terribly close to losing Roy forever, but more than that, she couldn't even imagine what Roy must have been going through.

"What happened?" she asked, afraid of what he would say.

"I felt trapped. One way or the other, I'd be trapped. Trapped between being someone I don't even know and being someone I don't want to be."

"Roy, you have to trust us now. Right now we know you a lot better than you know yourself. You don't want to do this, believe me," she begged him.

"I understand that. I understand it now. If I didn't kill myself before, if I didn't leave the army, it was because I wanted to change something. Killing myself would only cause more pain to other people around me. It would accomplish nothing but for my own selfish needs."

"We will figure it out, okay?" Riza said, more to herself than to Roy. "We'll figure it all out, and you will be all right. Just promise me you won't hurt yourself."

"Okay."

"Talk to me or to the others if you start having suicidal thoughts again."

"I won't kill myself. I promise."

Hawkeye acknowledged his promise with a nod, but then remembered that she had just been ordered to help Bingham. She would have to be away from Roy constantly. The others could keep an eye on him and make sure he wouldn't make an attempt at suicide. Nevertheless, could they help him keep his sanity? Could they prevent his suffering?

And while Havoc kept watch, the two of them lay down and tried to get some rest too. Roy closed his eyes and felt awfully tired, but couldn't sleep. He was still thinking of Riza. The only memory he had recovered so far was so brief, but still revealed so much to him. He had felt so comfortable by her side, listening only to her voice.

 _Damn it!_ He needed to be stronger. If not for himself, at least for her. And with that thought in mind he managed to sleep, even if not for long. The soldiers had to wake up at five o'clock. Hawkeye asked the others to let Roy sleep longer, but all the hustle and bustle at the base woke him up half an hour later.

And then Bingham came, hoping to talk to Mustang and to Alphonse and learn what they had found out.

"So your memories can be recovered. That is just great," the colonel said. "We can send our men to the northeast and try to open the way. It would be very helpful if you retrieved your memories and could use your flame alchemy again," he added.

Mustang didn't reply and his features turned somber, but fortunately, Bingham didn't notice that. Roy's subordinates looked at each other nervously, but remained silent.

"Just let me ask you one thing, General, "Bingham started, as something was really bugging him. "Why are you wearing a Xingese uniform?"

Mustang had changed clothes while running from the militia inside the slums and the Xingese only had their own uniforms to offer him. But once the Amestrian reinforcements had arrived, he should have received a new set of clothing, an Amestrian uniform and adequate for his rank.

"We thought that he might be safer if others think he is a Xingese soldier," Hawkeye explained. "That's why we didn't get him a new uniform."

"Okay. I'll inform Rong about our plans then. But we can't start attacking right now. I need Colonel Rong's approval. Captain Hawkeye, come with me," Bingham asked.

Hawkeye looked at Havoc, who nodded silently at her. Knowing Havoc was perfectly able to take care of things by himself, she followed Bingham to the officers' tent. Now that he was apparently in charge, Havoc said they had to get some breakfast quickly and then continue building the dugouts. Despite the fact that the Amestrian troops had arrived, the Xingese lads that had helped them dig the night before were already waiting. Breda joined them to give their instructions, taking Alphonse with him. Luckily, Alphonse spoke Xingese rather well and could help a lot. The others decided to get in line at the soup-kitchen.

"Sergeant Fuery," Roy called the soldier, who was staring at the line, trying to calculate how long it would take them to get some food and coffee.

"Sir?"

"I'd like to have my gun and my rifle back."

"You have to ask Lieutenant Havoc, Sir."

"About that," Havoc said, standing right behind them. "I'll let you take your weapons, but you have to promise you won't do anything stupid."

"I won't."

"Are you sure you won't have another outburst like yesterday?"

"Damn it, Havoc!" Mustang complained. "I'm not some stupid kid!"

"'Cause next time you get nervous, take a swing at me or one of the guys if you need, but do not even _think_ of taking the quickest exit," Jean continued, ignoring Mustang's angry reaction.

Sergeant Fuery looked at Havoc, not very happy with the lieutenant's suggestion about punching other people, but didn't say anything.

"I won't do it. I talked to Hawkeye yesterday, and I know now I can't do it," Mustang finally lowered his voice, quickly pulling the chain he had around his neck and showing Havoc the ring, before hiding it again.

"Fuery, you can give the gun back to him. I'll get your rifle as soon as we get some breakfast."

Kain got the gun from his holster and handed it to Mustang. Falman joined them in the line and they had to wait almost ten minutes before they all received a cup of coffee and some bread and ham. They ate quickly and then went to the dugouts to help. Breda and Alphonse left them there and went to get their own breakfast.

But they didn't even make it to the soup-kitchen. An Amestrian corporal found Breda on their way there and told him he had been summoned to the officers' tent.

"You go and get your calories, Alphonse. I'll eat something when I can," Heymans told the alchemist before leaving with the corporal. He came back ten minutes later, sweating and speaking a little more quickly than usual. Alphonse could tell he was nervous when he saw him.

"First Lieutenant Webster was injured upon arrival yesterday."

"Yes, he was going to be operated on".

"They couldn't perform the surgery. He bled out before they had the time to control the hemorrhage. He died."

"From a bullet to the shoulder?" Alphonse said, surprised.

"Brachial artery. Nasty place to be hit. The thing is," Breda added, annoyed, "they've promoted me to first lieutenant and I'm the one in charge of his platoon now."

Under the circumstances, Alphonse wasn't sure if he should congratulate the soldier or not. Breda asked the boy to let the others know about it, and left again. He had forty-seven men in his platoon, waiting for orders.

"Promoted too? Gee, battlefields are the best and the worst place to get a promotion," Havoc said in response to Alphonse's news. "Let's just keep digging for now. We aren't in any specific company so far, so at least we've got some freedom."

As Mustang should be the one in charge of everything there, he hadn't been assigned to any companies. Hawkeye had convinced Bingham to keep Havoc and Falman in charge of protecting the general only. Therefore, neither Jean nor Vato were in any specific companies. They had been assigned the same kind of work Hawkeye had, assisting the high-rank officers, or in their case, Brigadier General Mustang. Alphonse was given the same task, Breda had been put in charge of a platoon, and Fuery was soon called as well, since he had been assigned to be in charge of a technical squad in the same company Breda was.

"Lieutenant Falman," Alphonse called the gray-haired man once they resumed their work building the dugouts.

"Yes?"

"Why is the battlefield the best and the worst place to get a promotion? I didn't understand what Lieutenant Havoc said."

"It's the best place because it's easier to get a promotion. People die and get injured all the time and other officers are needed to replace the ones that are incapacitated. And it's the worst place due to the higher statistics of death and injury among officers in command during battle."

"I see. I hope Lieutenant Breda will be alright."

Alphonse turned around and saw Fuery had finished gathering his things in his haversack. He said good-bye and they wished him luck. Mustang thought of thanking him for what he had done the night before, but refrained from doing so. That shouldn't be the last time he would see the guy. He could thank him later.

"All right. General, with your permission, we'll continue digging now," Havoc said.

"Why do you need my permission?" Roy asked him, confused. They hadn't asked for his permission to do anything so far. Why do so now?

"Falman and I have been assigned to work with you. I assume you are okay with building the dugouts and all," Havoc explained.

Assigned to work with him, so Roy should be giving them orders. It was mere formality, of course, since he was in no condition to give orders and his subordinates were the ones telling him what to do now.

"Sure. Go ahead," he said, and Havoc and Falman got their shovels and went inside the dugouts, helping the Xingese soldiers dig. Mustang and Alphonse joined them, both taking the dirt away in wheel barrows. The Xingese lads kept staring at Mustang whenever he wasn't looking at them. They couldn't understand why a high-rank officer was helping them with the heavy work, even considering his amnesia.

A few hundred meters away from the group building the dugouts, Breda had finally met his newly assigned platoon and was inspecting the group, formed mostly by lads with ages ranging from twenty to twenty-four. Very few were older than that, and the oldest man in the group was a year younger than Breda.

"Is everyone here?" he asked Sergeant Ackley, the oldest hand in the platoon, a twenty-nine-year-old slender fellow with salt-and-pepper hair that contradicted his young-looking face.

"We have only forty-two soldiers. Privates Farrel and Shaw and Corporal Wetherby are in the dressing station. Privates Chapman and Nash are dead," Ackley replied.

Breda walked along the three lines of men standing in front of him, carrying their guns and equipment and looking rather worried at having a new commanding officer.

"How many of you are fighting in real battle for the first time?"

Quite a few lads stepped forward. Breda counted them quickly, and they added up to twenty-six. More than half of the platoon had never experienced real combat. They looked like the life in the desert had taught them how to survive in hot weather conditions, but not in the middle of mortar fire.

Breda had been ordered to inspect his men and get them ready for their first mission in the slums before noon. And he had to tell them now about what they were going to do.

"All right, men. We're going into the slums in an hour. What you have to know about our mission for now is basically… do not walk away from your squads, do not walk out in the open, do not shoot anybody you see because there are civilians there, but do not trust the civilians either. Many are being forced to fight and they don't want to be there any more than you do, but they'll kill you to protect their families from the militia. Another thing," he added, watching the anxiety build up in their young faces, "pay attention to the noise around you. The militia has been firing often and bombshells are falling all the time. If you hear anything that might be a shell falling, don't think, don't ask, don't look, just jump in a fucking hole or behind something and cover your heads."

No reply followed. The color had faded away from some faces.

"Are you listening?" Breda asked, irritated. He wanted to get those lads back to Amestris alive, but the best way to do that was being strict. If they feared him, they would obey his orders, and if they obeyed, they should be safer.

"Yes, Sir," they said loudly.

Breda walked to a man that seemed a little calmer and asked him where his fireteam was. The guy looked around, trying to locate his fireteam companions in the line. They were all spread along the three lines.

"Who's your corporal?" he asked the man.

"I am, Sir."

"Then how the hell can you not know where your men are?"

The soldier apologized energetically and under Ackley's orders, the lines were rearranged into four squads, with two fireteams each.

"Corporals, you will be aware of your men's whereabouts all the time. I don't care if they are in battle or in the latrine, you'll be able to tell where every man is and what he is doing. Sergeants, each man in your squad is your responsibility, so you'll know of their whereabouts as well."

There was a loud 'Yes, Sir' in response this time. Breda thought that maybe they weren't as bad as they had seemed to be at first. At least he hoped they weren't because he would soon be going into the slums with them, along with another platoon. They would meet some heavy gunfire, but they needed to make some progress in that direction, regardless of who attacked them.

Nightfall came again, and the slums were dead quiet. Rumors of more Xingese companies coming to help reached Amestrian ears, but nothing had been confirmed. There was talk of more Amestrian companies coming by train, but Bingham hadn't heard of anything like that, so they forgot about the idea quickly.

Mustang sat by the fire Falman had lit and removed his boots. He examined the blisters on his feet and put his socks closer to the fire so the sweat would dry. Tired from digging the whole day, Alphonse and Falman also sat around the fire, while Havoc went to the officers' tent to find out if Breda, Hawkeye and Fuery were all right. He was told Breda was staying in the slums with some of his men, guarding the newly established posts. Hawkeye was helping Bingham with reports from the platoons, but should join them soon, and Fuery was still with his squad.

Havoc decided to see the sergeant and found a group of young lads, of whom Fuery was surprisingly, the most experienced. The lads had just graduated from the army course in communication. Some of them hadn't even expected to be sent to the front. And as Sergeant Fuery had been ordered to stay with his squad the entire time, Havoc left him there and went back to where the others were. Riza had finally arrived and was sitting by the fire as well, so Havoc unceremoniously plopped on the ground and waited for anyone to say anything. An awkward silence fell upon them, though.

"Hey, Mustang, anything else came to mind?" he asked the general just to start a conversation. By now they had all been told that Roy had recovered some memories of being in hospital after the promised day, albeit neither Mustang nor Hawkeye had been very specific about them.

"I was thinking about that just now," Roy replied. The subject had made his stomach twist just the day before, but he felt his mind a lot more at ease now. Recovering memories might have been made easier now that he wasn't in such agony every time he thought of his past.

"Have you remembered anything else?" Riza asked him.

"I remember being in a big dark house – I think I lived there. And I remember a girl much like you, but with short hair."

"Yes, that was my father's house. You lived with us for a few years. My father died not long after you joined the army," Riza explained.

"That's right, your father was Mustang's Alchemy teacher, wasn't he?" Alphonse said excitedly. Anything related to alchemy was very interesting to him. Berthold Hawkeye had surely been a great alchemist if he was Mustang's master.

"So the girl I remember is indeed you," Roy said, very interested in something that had just occurred to him. "But if your father was an alchemist, you studied alchemy too, didn't you?"

"No, my father wanted me to, but I refused to study it."

"Why?" Alphonse asked this time, not able to grasp the idea that someone could refuse to learn such an interesting science.

Riza had always blamed alchemy for her father's seclusion. He would lock himself in his office and work for days in a row, barely leaving the place to eat a meal or two a day. He had said that devoting their lives to research was what alchemists did.

"I just didn't want to be like that," she said.

"I understand. Was I like that too?" Roy asked, to which Riza laughed.

"No, not at all. You completely changed my opinion of alchemists."

"Why don't you tell us of his teenage years?" Havoc said happily. "We all need a good laugh."

Hawkeye sighed, knowing that in a normal situation Mustang wouldn't like to be the topic of such a conversation, but right now, the memory-stripped general seemed interested, to say the least. He had a sort of boyish expectation written all over his face, even though he wouldn't say anything.

"What can I say?" she thought out loud, trying to recollect something funny. "When he first came to our house he didn't talk to me much. Mostly because when I asked him how old he was he told me to take a guess. I had no idea, so I said thirteen, but he was fifteen. I told him he was too short to be fifteen."

"Was I really short or were you just messing with me?" Mustang asked, finding it all very funny. As an adult he wasn't tall, but not exactly short.

"You were short. If I remember well you had a late adolescent growth spurt, but you were as tall as me for more than a year. And I was short."

"Funny that he mocked Edward for being short so many times. You should tell him that, Alphonse," Havoc suggested chuckling and almost dropping the cigarette he had just lit.

"It would make my brother happy beyond imagination…" the boy replied.

Encouraged by the others to tell more about Roy's time as an alchemist apprentice, Hawkeye went on telling them how Roy had managed to keep up with her father's high standards and still have a life of his own. He would spend the afternoon out on the streets, have fun, get in all sorts of trouble, then come home and study the whole night until three or four o'clock in the morning.

"I had to wake him up in the morning because the alarm clock itself was far from enough to get him out of bed," she added. "He even smashed it into pieces in his sleep once. I don't know how he did it, but I kept finding parts of the broken clock around the house for two weeks."

"It seems General Mustang has never been an early bird," Falman said. Mustang had always had trouble getting to work on time early in the morning.

"You know, something about all that sounds familiar," Mustang spoke, as if thinking hard about the matter. "I remember you calling me in the morning…"

"You do?"

"Get out of bed, sleepyhead! I won't call you again!" he said.

Hawkeye gave him a truly light-hearted smile and Roy knew her smile meant the world to him. Even in the darkness of the night that surrounded them, even in the hot dry air of that God-forsaken desert, her smile made him feel much better.

"Now that I thought about it, I actually remember you pulling my covers to wake me up as well," Roy added, as a smirk formed on his face.

"I did that just once. I can't believe you remembered that! Out of everything you could have remembered," Hawkeye said in disbelief. More than that, she found it hard to believe Mustang would mention such an incident in front of the others.

"What happened?" Havoc asked, though not very interested this time. She had probably seen him in his underwear, which was no big deal, but could be embarrassing for a teenage girl.

"He had no clothes on," Riza explained.

"Just underwear."

"No, not even underwear."

"Seriously?" Alphonse asked this time. "He was naked?"

If Havoc and Falman were expecting something funny to have a real laugh at, Mustang and Hawkeye had just given them the joke of the year. They burst into uncontrollable laughter and even called attention from other soldiers around, but no one asked them what was going on.

"What are you laughing at?" Hawkeye asked Roy, although she too thought the story was funny.

"I'm sorry, I just remembered that moment and it seemed so ridiculous I can't control myself. You should have seen your face."

"Yours was very funny too," Hawkeye replied.

"Are you sure you were looking at his face?" Havoc snorted, earning a slap on his arm from the blond woman.

And as no other stories could possibly surpass that one, they all decided to call it a day and get some sleep. Breda and Fuery would certainly laugh too once Havoc told them about Mustang and Hawkeye's incident, but now they all needed their rest. The next day lay close ahead, but they couldn't have been prepared for the emotional distress it would bring all of them.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello guys! I hope you laughed with the end of this chapter. We will resume the explosions soon. Please, leave a review if you can. It's been a long week and it's not over yet, so I'd be very happy to have some reviews to read. Thanks a lot to everyone who's reading and see you again next Friday!


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist and I don't own the song used for the name of the chapter. You're not very surprised, I believe.

I want to say thanks to everyone who's reading and for the reviews. I also want to say thanks to my awesome beta-reader, ssadropout!

* * *

 **Chapter 9 – Glory and Gore**

 _Glory and Gore - Lord_

* * *

The night before had brought a casual talk and a shadow of familiarity to Mustang, something that for the first time made him feel like he belonged somewhere, despite his memory loss. On the next day however, a harsh reality came back, striking them like a deranged bull. It started early with the first bombshells to fall at the base. The dugouts proved useful, as some soldiers hid into them and survived the explosions above their heads without being injured. Still, the situation was close to chaotic.

It was even hard to believe. Mustang had gone to sleep the previous night thinking about teenage memories and laughing at silly situations along with his comrades. And then the morning light came, bringing along a horrible smell of smoke and a cloud of dust that made even breathing an unpleasant experience.

Still in the middle of the afternoon, far from where Mustang was working with Havoc and the others, a Xingese boy, who couldn't have been more than ten or eleven years old, ran into the base asking desperately for help. The problem however, was that he had entered an area that was occupied by Amestrian soldiers, who didn't speak a word in Xingese.

"What do you think he wants?" an Amestrian radio technician asked Sergeant Fuery.

The young lad spoke hysterically and cried dreadfully, but no one understood anything he said. His despair was unbearable to watch. He pointed at the heart of the slums, before taking a few steps in that direction and gesturing with his small calloused hands that he wanted someone to come with him.

"Sergeant Fuery, what do you think we should do?" a lad asked the bespectacled communication specialist.

"There must be someone injured or trapped. We'd have to call for reinforcements."

Again the boy jumped and gestured for someone to come. When he realized the other soldiers were staring at Sergeant Fuery waiting for his decision, he walked straight to Kain and fell on his knees. His head almost touched the man's boots as he cried and talked nervously in his native language. His whole tiny body shivered frantically.

"Let's talk to Lieutenant Breda," another soldier, a stout lad who was there on his first mission, suggested.

"He won't be able to help. He's following Bingham's orders," Fuery reflected on the matter.

The Xingese boy unconsciously reminded Kain of himself as a kid. Had he realized that, he might have been able to think more clearly, but he didn't.

"I'll go with him. Don't tell anyone."

"You're joking! You can't go, Sergeant!"

"What if it's a trap?"

"It's not. I can tell."

They all stared at the boy again, knowing well that Fuery's idea was very dangerous. But the kid's sobs had gotten to them and the only thing they could think of now was how to make him stop his agonizing cries.

"I'll go too," another soldier said, and another offered to go as well. But Fuery preferred not to drag the others into this, so he ordered them to stay and left with the boy into the slums.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … ..

Lieutenant Havoc had ordered the digging to stop due to the shells that had fallen and the soldiers were all busy trying to organize the mess of debris that the attack had left. The aftermath of the shelling had added up to three serious injuries, but more were coming from the slums. The Xingese soldiers had been fighting hard on the other side of the base, and their casualties had flooded even the Amestrian dressing station.

Havoc and Alphonse were carrying gallons of water to the dressing station, when they noticed a group of more than twelve people, all women and children, run aimlessly into the base. Havoc wanted to go back to where he had left Mustang and Falman, who were still helping fix the damage to the entrance of one of the dugouts. But Alphonse stopped and put down the gallon he was carrying, obviously worried about those people.

"Look at all those civilians," Alphonse said.

Two Amestrian soldiers also saw the group and directed them to a tent. They tried to talk to them, but they couldn't communicate with the Xingese. Havoc sighed as Al walked to the tent and offered to translate the conversation. Jean put down the gallon he had as well and followed the boy. They all gathered under the tent, where the civilians all sat on the ground, covering their heads in a protective manner, terrified. Only one woman stood, crying desperately, and looking out of the tent, as if waiting for somebody else to come. Her skin was wrinkled and darkened from the sun. She was probably much younger than she appeared to be, but the desert weather was no friend of beauty and youth.

Alphonse called her in Xingese and for a moment she stared at him very surprised, then started speaking so quickly he had trouble understanding her at first.

The lady had just begun to explain to him that her son was missing when another group of Amestrian soldiers arrived, dragging a Xingese boy along with them. The woman seemed as if a terrible burden had been lifted off her shoulders. The boy was the son she couldn't find. But the soldiers wouldn't let go of him and they seemed angry.

"You! You're the interpreter?" one of them asked Alphonse.

"Yes, wh-"

"Talk to this kid first. Tell him that if he set a trap we'll arrest him!"

The other soldiers held the woman back and Alphonse was led away from the tent, very confused.

" _You have to help! Help! I need help! Let me go!"_ the kid yelled in Xingese, while the Amestrian private dragged him forcefully.

" _What happened?"_ Al asked the lad, who was very surprised to see a foreigner speaking his language, but overcame his surprise rapidly.

Havoc watched annoyed as Alphonse spoke to him. He wasn't paying much attention to the conversation as he couldn't understand it, but he had the impression he had heard Alphonse mention the name 'Fuery'. It must have been his imagination, he thought, turning to the civilians. They all looked wretched. Poor bastards.

"Lieutenant Havoc, we have a problem!" Al called him all of a sudden, very alarmed.

"What is it?"

"This boy came here asking for help because his family and some other people were going to be executed by the Guang Tahe inside the slums. He convinced Sergeant Fuery to go there with him!"

"He what?" Havoc yelled. "Where is Fuery now?"

"In the slums! The kid said he shot down two militiamen and freed these people that just arrived but he stayed behind and was injured by a shell."

Jean could barely believe it. Both Amestrians were silent, Alphonse waiting for the lieutenant to say something, and Havoc trying to process the information. He had gone into the slums? Was he crazy?

"Dammit, this is so typical of Fuery, worrying about others when he should be worrying about his own ass!" Havoc shouted, kicking a piece of wood that was lying close to him violently. It flew a couple of meters and almost hit one of the guys from the communication squad.

"Let's talk to Lieutenant Breda," one of the privates suggested.

"No, wait. Alphonse, how far from here was he?" Jean asked the Amestrian alchemist.

Al talked to the boy again and found out it should take ten minutes on foot to get to where he had left Kain. They couldn't run out in the open because they might get shot or hit by other bombshells that kept falling, so they needed ten minutes to get to him.

Again the soldiers from the communication squad suggested getting Breda, but Jean pointed out that Breda answered to Colonel Bingham and Bingham wouldn't allow a rescue mission this risky because of one man alone. They couldn't go to Mustang either, since he had no real authority due to his amnesia. Havoc struggled to think of a way out, but the only one he could see was breaking some rules himself.

"Tell the kid he'll have to take me there. It's only fair if Sergeant Fuery just saved his family," he said to Alphonse. He didn't like the idea of taking a child into such a perilous situation, but what choice did he have? He couldn't leave his friend for dead in that forlorn place.

Although Jean expected a completely different reaction from the kid, the boy was more than willing to take him. His mother didn't like the idea, however. Havoc heard her scream as he and the boy walked away from the tent, followed by the other soldiers. The sound pierced through his ears and made him close his eyes for a second, before he could pluck up the strength to do what he had to.

"Ten minutes to get there, another fifteen to come back carrying him if he's injured. If I'm not back in twenty-five, let Hawkeye know of what happened," Lieutenant Havoc said to the others.

"I'm going with you," Alphonse quickly said.

"No, you're not. You're the only alchemist we have. I'm far easier to replace than you are right now."

Alphonse wasn't used to the army's way. How could people's lives be measured against each other? How could Havoc consider himself replaceable? Didn't he have a family to go back to? The other soldiers got around him and Alphonse clenched his hands to the point his fingernails hurt his palms, but didn't follow the tall blond man. Al thought of his own family, and then of the families of every soldier there. Everyone had a family to go back to. No one could use that as an excuse to stay away from danger.

Twenty-five minutes. Havoc should be back in twenty-five.

The lieutenant tried to calculate the time, but he didn't have a watch. He followed the boy slowly among abandoned shacks, always walking against a wall, looking for protection and hoping to whatever god existed out there they wouldn't be spotted by militiamen. Apart from occasional explosions far from there, the slums were quiet. The dead silence was like torture. Havoc could hear his own steps dislocate the sand, no matter how hard he tried not to make noise. The boy in front of him walked barefoot, quiet as a mouse, but Jean could hear even the material of his uniform brush against his own body.

They kept on going and heard voices at a certain point. The boy froze, frightened, but then recovered and indicated a different way with his small hand. They walked through an intricate maze of small dirt paths that connected the houses and yards. Eventually the boy stopped again, looking rather confused. Havoc looked at the street ahead and saw blood on the ground, but no sign of Fuery. That seemed to be the place, but where was the sergeant?

 _Shit._

Havoc looked around and saw the houses had metal fragments stuck into their partially destroyed walls. He could see the clear signs that a shell had landed there. But there was no sign of Fuery. Maybe militia had gotten to him first, or maybe he had managed to get up and walk. But where would he have gone to? Would he know the way back to the base? Most certainly not. Havoc himself was completely lost by now. Were his young guide to be shot down now, Jean knew his chances of getting back would be nearly zero.

Havoc was still trying to think of his next step when they heard altered voices coming from somewhere close. The Xingese kid pulled Jean's uniform sleeve to get his attention and darted into one of the houses. The lieutenant followed him upstairs and out on the flat roof. From there he distinctively heard Fuery's voice. He was alive, but that wasn't a relief just yet.

"Leave me alone! Stay away!" Kain's voice echoed from below.

Havoc ran to the edge of the flat roof and finally saw Fuery. He hadn't gone far after all. He had apparently dragged himself to a narrower street between that house and the next one, but two militiamen had found him. The Guang Tahe soldiers always walked in pairs. Fuery had no ammunition, he had already used it all. He was sitting on the ground, obviously injured and not able to stand. He had an army knife instead, and was pointing it at the Tahe men, who held long pieces of metal pipes in their hands and laughed. They walked towards him, hands raised in the air, metal weapons ready for the attack.

Jean took only a second to measure the height from the flat roof to the ground below. It was a bit high, but he was out of time to take the stairs now.

The two militiamen were taken by surprise when the Amestrian soldier jumped from the roof. Jean landed right in front of the attackers, just close enough to attack them. The roof wasn't that high that a person would break his legs jumping from there, but Havoc landed heavily on the ground, stepping on uneven ground. His right foot twisted acutely inside his boot and he almost lost balance. A bolt of pain shot through his ankle as he managed to balance himself and not fall. He hadn't even realized he had a knife in his hand until he thrust it into the first Tahe man's neck.

Blood gushed out of the wound, warm and wet. Havoc pushed the man and pulled the knife out. The second attacker screamed angrily and lunged forward, but the first one fell back and made the other trip over him. The second man fell face down on top of the bloody body of his companion and Havoc threw himself on top of him, putting all his weight on one knee. He tried to pull the man's head up, but all he got was hair. He pulled it anyway and slid the knife across his throat. Blood gushed out, in an even larger amount. Jean felt like he was going to vomit. He stood up and looked at the two bodies with disgust as blood started to form a pool around them.

"Havoc! What are you doing here?" Fuery cried out, and only understood when he saw the Xingese boy who had brought the lieutenant there walk into the narrow alley as well.

"Did he bring you here?"

"Yes, he told us what happened. Are you okay?" Havoc asked Kain, quickly pushing the violence of his acts to some other part of his mind.

Later he would have all the time in world to wonder if that animal that had killed those two people had been living inside him the whole time, or if the conflicts had given birth to it. Shooting people was one thing. Stabbing and getting soaked in the enemy's blood was another. But a soldier's survival depended on his ability to think about certain things and not think about others, so he forgot it for the time being.

Lieutenant Havoc knelt on the ground to assess his friend's situation and felt a sharp pain shoot through his right ankle. He had to clench his teeth in order not to scream.

"I can't walk. My leg is broken. It was bleeding an awful lot," Kain said nervously, looking at the belt he had tied around his left leg just below the knee as a tourniquet.

There was blood on his clothes, but he was fully alert. He moved his legs a little, which was a good sign. At least he didn't seem to have a spinal injury.

"Let me see that wound," Havoc said.

Havoc pulled the torn cloth of the military uniform to examine the injury more closely. The tourniquet was keeping it from bleeding, but only because Fuery had tied it absurdly tight. Bone fragments were exposed. Muscles, tendons and other tissues were all a bloody mess. His leg was bent in an angle that shouldn't be possible. Jean's hopes that the wound wasn't serious were crushed. Right now he didn't even know if a surgeon would be able to fix it.

"Are you injured anywhere else?" he asked.

"My right leg as well."

Just the legs. He was injured in both legs, but no vital organs appeared to have been hit by the shell fragments. Fuery had been really lucky. The other leg didn't seem to be broken, although Fuery couldn't put any weight on it either.

"Okay, we don't have much time. We have to splint that leg somehow," the lieutenant said and looked around.

The two Tahe men he had just killed had been carrying pieces of metal pipes. Havoc wiped the blood that covered one of them and got his own belt to tie them. The Xingese boy, realizing what he intended to do, took his shirt off and gave it to him. Havoc finished splinting the leg more or less. It wasn't a good splint, but he hoped it would last long enough.

He managed to lift Fuery off the ground and place him across his shoulders, although the motion caused both soldiers a lot of pain.

" _Keep it together Jean… You can do it!_ " he thought, and started walking. Havoc's injury wasn't so severe, but it made him limp. His unsteady gait caused more jarring and he could feel Fuery's body very tense on his shoulders. The sergeant groaned and kept holding his breath, releasing it violently every few seconds. They started on their way back to the base and Jean felt the pain in his foot gradually worsening. Fuery seemed to be doing even worse.

"You're injured too," Kain said after a while.

"It's nothing. Save your breath."

But Havoc could barely walk with the extra weight. The boy by his side constantly urged him to walk faster, but he couldn't. He would take much more than fifteen minutes to get back. If anyone saw them, they would all be dead.

"It's useless, we'll both get killed," Fuery said. "Put me down."

"You can't walk by yourself, don't be ridiculous."

"Just leave me in one of the houses and get some help."

Under different circumstances, that would have been the wisest thing to do. But Havoc wasn't sure if Fuery could afford the wait. Blood was dripping from his broken leg. The tourniquet and splint weren't holding that well.

"What are you going to do when we get back?" he asked Kain.

"What?" the other asked. He thought he hadn't understood the question.

"I'm going to see my girlfriend," Havoc said. "She's got a daughter, but I'll tell her to leave the kid at her folks' house so I can spend the weekend there. After so many days in this stupid dirty uniform, I don't want to wear any clothes for a couple of days at least."

"Havoc, just put me down," Fuery demanded again.

"What are you going to do once we get back? We should ask Falman to introduce you to that cousin of his, the girl who works at the hair salon."

"Havoc, put me down. I'm serious."

Fuery started growing more impatient, but Jean simply ignored him.

"What do you think of Falman's cousin?"

"That doesn't matter now, Havoc!" Fuery finally couldn't hold himself any longer.

"We'll never get there at this rate! Put me down!"

"Stop yelling. I can't. Your leg is bleeding again."

Kain stopped talking, knowing that Havoc wouldn't leave him there. Panic started growing inside him and he tried his best to control it. Thinking of something else was usually good.

"I wrote a letter… to a girl who works at the shop… across the street from my apartment building," he said after a few minutes, still breathing with some difficulty due to the pain. "I told her I want to go out… with her when we return home."

"Is she pretty?" Havoc asked, trying to keep a conversation.

"She is. I've talked to her many times… but I kept postponing asking her out."

"Girls like soldiers. Just think that in a few weeks she'll be in your bed screaming your name," Havoc joked.

"Your dirty mind just ruined… all the romance I had thought of."

"All right, the romance first then," Havoc said plainly, not finding any energy to laugh. "Get her some flowers."

"I'll do that. I will."

They were almost there and Jean made an effort to walk faster, as the area around the base was constantly trodden on by militia. He tried hard to think of his girlfriend Rachel and her daughter Erika. He tried not to pay attention to the pain of his injured ankle, but every step he took he had to hold his breath. And when he thought he wouldn't be able to continue he saw, for his uttermost relief, people yelling in the distance and running towards them.

"It's Mustang and Falman," Fuery said.

"And Alphonse, too," Jean said. Never before had he been so happy to see somebody.

"Are you all right?" Roy asked them in a hurry.

"I can't carry him any longer," Jean finally said what had been troubling him over the last twenty minutes or more.

"It's okay, I'll take him."

Havoc put Fuery back on the ground and Mustang lifted him again, doing the fireman carry soldiers were taught in the army, just like Havoc had done. How Mustang remembered the technique Havoc could only guess. His procedural memory was intact, but Havoc wouldn't care much for the differences between kinds of memory.

"Falman, escort Havoc back to the base, this area is swarming with those Tahe men."

"Yes, Sir!"

"Alphonse!" Mustang called. "Get your gun and give me cover."

"But, Sir! I barely know how to shoot a gun!" Alphonse yelled in desperation. More than that, he had never killed a person. He wasn't a soldier.

"Try to pretend you know what you're doing."

Alphonse hesitated, but he knew that if they were attacked, they could be killed. Havoc's efforts to bring Fuery back and everyone's efforts to restore Mustang's lost memories would have been useless if they were shot down now, so close to the hospital.

"Okay," Al said, holding the gun as he had been taught to during a short training session he had had under Bingham's orders, before being sent to Zhu Xia. He didn't want to kill anyone of course. But right now, not killing any attackers that showed up might mean the death of his friends. Wouldn't he be taking a life anyway if he failed to protect his friends? That moment was the death of innocence for him. Alphonse followed Mustang back to the base, ready to shoot down any militiamen that he saw. What would Edward have said of that? He tried not to think of it.

"How did you walk this far with that injury?" Falman asked Havoc, as they both walked back to the base, followed by the Xingese boy. Havoc now was mostly hopping, his arm placed around Falman's shoulders. They kept their guns in hand, looking around the whole way, but luckily, no enemies turned up.

"I haven't the faintest idea," Jean said. "Where's Hawkeye?"

"Alphonse couldn't find her, so he came to us instead."

"The kid's smart."

"You were missing for almost an hour."

It had felt like a lot longer than that, Jean thought.

At the dressing station, Amestrian doctors were running against time to operate on all the wounded when Mustang rushed into the tent, shouting. Alphonse had left to look for Hawkeye, and Fuery needed a doctor immediately.

Only one came to his aid. He had just finished a surgical procedure when his next patient arrived.

"Let me see that wound. Put him on the table over there!" the surgeon asked. The soldier groaned and winced in pain and the doctor quickly got a pair of scissors to cut the uniform open.

"This looks bad. He needs surgery immediately. You!" the doctor turned to Roy. "Do you speak our language well?"

Roy was confused at first, but then remembered he was wearing the Xingese uniform. He had been mistaken for a Xingese soldier more than once already.

"Yes, fluently," he said, as explaining what he was doing in Xingese clothes would take too long.

"Then you'll help me, because everyone else is already operating."

"Right."

Falman and Havoc arrived, but the doctor chased them out of the room.

"Can you save my leg?" Fuery asked the doctor as he placed an IV line in the soldier's arm.

"I don't know," the doctor said blankly, now injecting the anesthetic. The sergeant fell asleep seconds later.

"Keep watching his breathing. I don't want to lose another patient to respiratory arrest," the doctor told Roy. "And turn a light on! I can barely see what I'm doing!"

The surgeon had no idea he was talking to a general of his own army, but Mustang didn't care right now. He got a gas lamp, lit it and held it close to the wound. There was still daylight outside, but not much.

"It's no use," the doctor said after less than five minutes. "Look at this! It's like he stepped on a land mine!"

"Can't you even try?"

"What for? It would all necrotize. We'll have to amputate. Bring me some compresses from the other surgical room."

Roy found himself wondering how old Fuery could be. Twenty-two? Maybe twenty-three? A whole life ahead of him and the doctor was going to cut his leg off. But when Roy came back and took a closer look at the wound, he knew the doctor was doing the only thing possible. The leg was hanging by a bit of muscle and tendon alone. Havoc should have cut it off with a knife at the field before bringing him. Mustang thought, however, that he himself probably wouldn't have the heart to do so either, even if he had been the one to bring the sergeant back.

* * *

 **A/N:** Yes, I'm mean. I know that. Don't be mad. I've done worse and will probably do worse in the future. Muahahahaha! Thanks a lot for reading everyone, have a great weekend and see you next Friday! And please, leave a review if you have the time!


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but for two feet which are killing me right now!

I want to say a big thank you to everyone who's reading and to my awesome beta-reader, ssadropout!

* * *

 **Chapter 10 – Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)**

 _Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) – Green Day_

* * *

The dressing station was completely full that evening. Many injured people had just come out of surgery and there were constant complaints about the lack of medication. Hawkeye walked into the tents in a hurry, followed by Falman. She had just been told to meet Mustang there at the dressing station because Fuery had been injured. She found Roy sitting on a crate by Fuery's bed, in the middle of many other beds occupied by soldiers and civilians. Kain was still unconscious and very pale. Riza noticed the missing leg and felt her heart sink.

"Oh, no," she let out sadly. "What happened to him?"

"Bombshell. He's lost his left leg and hurt the other as well. The doctor stitched an incomplete tear in the tendon just above his right knee."

Falman looked sadly at the lad. He had seen Kain when Havoc had brought him and he had feared the surgeon might have no choice but amputate his leg. Falman would have switched places with the sergeant if he could. Fuery was the youngest of their group. It just wasn't fair. "Did he wake up already?" he asked.

"No. I'm waiting until he does. He doesn't even know of the amputation yet. I thought someone should be here to tell him instead of letting him find out on his own."

Hawkeye agreed and Mustang observed as she placed a hand on the sergeant's right leg and looked at him for some time, her eyes filled with sorrow. It was long before anyone talked. Riza, exhausted as she was, looked for a place to sit on the ground by Mustang's side. Roy stood up and offered her the crate he had been sitting on, but she politely refused. She would have to go back to help Bingham soon anyway. Falman didn't sit down and stood there instead, with other thoughts in his head.

"We have some news about Drachma," Riza spoke in a listless voice, like merely speaking took her tremendous effort. "Their troops are coming through the desert and should be here in a few days. We believe they're using clandestine roads so they will be driving until they get closer. At some point close to the Wung Mountain the roads end and they'll have to walk. The Emperor managed to gather some soldiers in the south and they're coming to our aid. Colonel Bingham wants to abandon the railway stations and bring all our men here as well."

"How much longer will it take?"

"Three days for the Xingese troops and the rest of our men to arrive together. The Drachman should be here in five or six days," she explained, in a listless voice. That was not really unexpected, but they had finally made progress on the search for the transmutation place, and things were going to get complicated again. "And we're close to where the transmutation that took away your memory was performed," Riza then added.

"That's good."

"Alphonse said you still need to recover more memories, open more holes in the block inside your head."

Roy felt his mind hurt. He was tired and he definitely didn't want to force himself to try and remember anything else. Every little piece of his memory that he had recovered so far had been so hard to retrieve.

"I have something here with me. Maybe I should have given it to you earlier," Riza said, getting a thick notebook out of her jacket and handing it to Mustang.

"What is this?"

"Let's talk outside. Falman, can you stay here with Fuery?" Riza asked the man, who saluted her with a 'Yes, Ma'am'.

Once they were outside and Mustang inquired another time about the notebook, Hawkeye told him it was a journal.

"Who wrote this?" Roy asked, opening the leather-covered notebook. The handwriting was neat and it covered pages and pages. Someone had been writing on it for a long time."

"You wrote it. To give to our children one day."

"Come again?"

In a different situation, Hawkeye could have laughed at the general's bewildered expression. She still remembered the day he had come to her place, a smirk in his face, saying he had something to tell her.

" _Roy, he can't possibly be my grandfather. I don't know where you got that idea from," she told the general, as they lay together in bed, well hidden from the winter cold by a heavy blanket._

" _Wasn't your mother's maiden name Grumman?"_

" _Yes, but do you have any idea how many people took that surname? Hundreds of peasants who worked on the Grummans' land four or five hundred years ago took the family name. It was very common at the time."_

" _Yes, I know that. But I saw a photograph of your mother in his office."_

" _You never met my mother in person. Maybe they looked alike, but that doesn't make me the Fuhrer's granddaughter," Riza said, impatiently. Roy wasn't one to be carried away by simple coincidences. Why would he be so unyielding?_

" _I asked him about the picture."_

" _And what did he say?"_

" _That his daughter had married an alchemist. And he had a granddaughter, but they didn't talk. He said he never got along with his son in law. They had a really bad argument once and he never went to their house again. His granddaughter never talked to him and Fuhrer Grumman feared she had been poisoned against him by her father after her mother died."_

" _And you concluded this granddaughter of his was me. You forgot that I have talked to the Fuhrer quite a few times before," Riza explained._

" _Yes, as a soldier, but not as his granddaughter."_

" _It's not enough, Roy."_

" _I know it's not enough. There's more," he said playfully, like he had saved the best for last._

" _More?"_

" _I asked him if I had met this granddaughter of his before."_

" _And?"_

" _He said I knew her very well. I asked if it was you and he confirmed it."_

" _He was joking."_

" _He wasn't."_

" _Then_ you _are joking," Riza said, still unable to believe it._

" _I'm not! He's your grandfather!" Roy said laughing. "The man was simply too scared to talk to you! He thought you knew about him. I told him you probably didn't."_

The wind went past Mustang and Hawkeye like cold water, and they were both hiding their hands inside their uniform jackets as they talked, a few yards away from the hospital.

"You're the Fuhrer's granddaughter. So that's why he is going to help us get married," Roy said.

"Yes. Don't tell other people, though. We decided to keep it a secret."

"What does that have to do with us having kids?"

"Grumman said he would help us under one condition."

"Huh. He wants great-grandchildren."

"Yes."

Wasn't having kids the dream of most married couples?

"Back then we had never thought of having kids. The idea made you very worried," Riza explained, the sadness in her face making her look older. "Considering everything that we went through in Ishval and your reputation as the Flame Alchemist, you didn't want to have children. I was okay with that too."

"But we changed our minds because of the Fuhrer."

"We gave the idea some thought. And the possibility grew on us little by little."

They had discussed it for long hours before giving Grumman an answer. Mustang was still afraid, however, of what his reputation would sound like to a child. His child. He didn't even know how to be a father. Roy thought that he wouldn't be able to talk to his kids about Ishval, and hearing about it from other people, would probably make them grow up to hate him. Hawkeye had then suggested that if he couldn't talk about it, perhaps he should just write it all down.

Mustang stared at the notebook like it contained a horror story he was too scared to read. "So this journal is about Ishval," he said.

"Not just Ishval. Everything."

"For our children to read."

"When they are old enough, yes. You didn't exactly try to sugarcoat our stories."

"Maybe this will jog my memory. If I wrote it myself, it should, after all."

"Just don't overdo it. And if at any point you start having suicidal thoughts again, come talk to me."

"It's okay, Riza. I won't run away from myself. Not anymore. I promise," he said, holding tight to the notebook like it was a hand grenade that would blow him up if he dropped it.

Hawkeye smiled when he called her by her first name. He hadn't done that since he had lost his memory, and she could see that he was the Roy she knew so well again, even though he wasn't back to normal yet.

"I have to go now," she said sadly.

"It's okay. I'll be here in the hospital reading."

"I love you," she said in a low voice, so other people around wouldn't hear it, and then walked away.

Stripped of his memories, Roy could remember very little, but he knew how happy and light-hearted she had made him feel. If that wasn't love, he didn't know what it could be.

"Hawkeye!" he called her.

She was already about three yards away from him when she turned around and looked at him.

"It seems…" he started saying, then continued moving his lips without producing any sound. " _I love you too."_

She gave him an affectionate smile, and walked away again. Bingham needed her. And Roy's journal was something he needed to go through by himself.

The dressing station was the perfect place for reading, since it had gas lamps everywhere and only a few nurses walked around, checking on patients every now and then. Roy got back to where he had been sitting, telling Falman to get some rest. There he would be able to read and keep an eye on Sergeant Fuery until the lad woke up.

He opened the journal slowly, and started reading the first page. It didn't mention Ishval yet, but Roy's reasons to join the army. It had all started with naïve dreams and a sense of duty. He was an alchemist, so he had to help his country. But who did a soldier help? The government's interests weren't always the best for their people. Roy had realized that too late. Ishval had been the worst consequence of his innocence. And many pages were dedicated to the Ishval War.

Roy thought that Ishval would be totally blocked and inaccessible to him because it made him feel terrible agony, but after a while, certain details began to come back. His friend Maes Hughes, a constant presence in that part of the story, gained a face and a voice. Mustang could now remember the man clearly. And there were others. Alchemists and regular soldiers. And his fire alchemy.

His fire alchemy wasn't something he wanted to remember, but he couldn't run from it. The only thing that made Roy feel less disgusted about it was that he had always hated being used as a human weapon. He hadn't been proud of crushing down their enemies. His writing made it obvious. His torment had been deposited on the paper along with the ink.

And Hawkeye's tattoo. She had asked him to burn it. Burn her own skin, to maybe wash away her sins and prevent the birth of another fire alchemist. Everything had gone wrong. Ishval had been all a terrible mistake. Mustang closed the notebook and kept staring at its cover for a long time. The memories of Ishval brought a feeling of shame and agony that felt horribly familiar.

There was a low guttural sound and Mustang laid the journal on the ground when he realized Sergeant Fuery had opened his eyes.

"Hey. It's okay, you're in the hospital."

The lad seemed confused. He blinked a few times as if the surroundings were still unfamiliar to him. Mustang remembered that he wore glasses, so he got them for the soldier. They still had blood on them. Roy now thought he should have noticed that before and cleaned the glasses while Fuery was still asleep.

"General." Kain recognized the man once he put his glasses on. "What time is it?"

"I'm not sure. It's way past midnight."

"What are you doing here?"

"Reading," Roy said. "How are you feeling?"

"My leg hurts. And it's itchy," he replied and moved a little in his bed. His face suddenly changed and Fuery froze. His sleepy gaze was replaced by an alarmed expression.

"Fuery, don't move just yet. You'll rip your stitches," Roy told him, as he had apparently at least realized that something was wrong.

Mustang had no choice but deliver the bad news. He had been so immersed in his own journal he hadn't thought of the right words to talk to Fuery, but he had to say something.

"The surgeon who operated on you, he did all he could, but your leg wasn't salvageable," Roy said, not sure of what kind of reaction he should expect.

"Did he cut off my leg?" Kain asked nervously, then tried to sit up and check his injury, but failed. His right knee was immobilized and the left leg had been amputated below the knee.

"Don't raise your head yet," Roy said, holding Fuery down by his shoulders. "Your blood pressure is still low. The doctor said you're not to sit or stand for now."

"But I still had my leg, it was still there! Why did he cut it off?"

Roy had to describe the injury to convince the sergeant that the surgeon had done the only thing possible. Kain eventually understood it and insisted on sitting up. Mustang helped him and watched quietly as the soldier stared for a long time at the bandaged stump, mourning the loss of his leg.

"Havoc. Havoc was limping," Fuery said after a while, lying down again.

"He's all right. He has a twisted ankle, but it isn't broken."

"What about those people, the Xingese civilians?"

"They arrived at the base, all safe and sound. If you hadn't helped them, those civilians would have been killed. The militia was going to execute them because they were all related to people who had failed to fight our troops," Mustang pointed out.

"They're all safe then. That's good. At least that."

Fuery went quiet and managed to lie on his side, looking away from his superior. Mustang asked him if he wanted water or anything. He should be thirsty or maybe even hungry.

"No, Sir. Thank you," he replied in a low sad voice, and still somnolent from the anesthetics, drifted off to an uneasy sleep again, without even taking his glasses off.

Mustang could feel the somnolence getting the best of him now too, but he opened the journal, meeting the bloody sands of Ishval again. He continued until he finished that part, and then found descriptions of how each of his subordinates had joined him, working in the big boring offices of East City, and later Central. Roy was already tired, and it was very late, but curiosity made him keep on reading. For the first time since he had started reading that journal, he had gotten to a part that he actually _wanted_ to read.

 _When she entered my office she was determined to stay. She had followed me through hell and out of it, and was willing to do so again if necessary. I knew there and then, I had my most trustworthy companion in that woman. Hawkeye was more than a war comrade. She had seen into my soul, with no masks, no fancy uniforms, no ranks. Just me. She understood me, completed me. Without her, I wouldn't be here writing this._

 _But I still needed more people to work with me. I had been given a certain budget to spend on personnel. That money would allow me to choose whom I wanted to work with me and I could choose between quality and quantity. I decided for quality. I tried Hughes, but he thought he could be of better use where he was at the moment. I didn't know anyone from Ishval that I had liked and that was still alive or still had two legs to walk on._

 _Knowing I needed more people, Riza recommended a man she had met in the academy. He had been assigned to the South of the country, to help control local rebellions. Reliable, was the word she had used to describe him. Even though not a very good strategist, he could be trusted to follow his orders without question. I met him in a guarding post outside a small town in the south a week later. Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc. He had been quickly promoted during the uprisings, just like me and Hawkeye._

Roy continued reading about Jean, and learned that next he had chosen Falman to work for him. At the time, the Warrant Officer worked with investigations, mostly filing documents and doing office work.

 _That case wasn't like most cases we used to get. Serial killers were uncommon in East City. I was assigned to supervise the investigation because the other investigators had failed, but to me the case was a mess from the start. Colonel Dalton told me to either assign a new investigator and supervise him, or investigate the case myself._

 _That morning was one of the coldest days of the year. I arrived at the investigators' office with Lieutenant Hawkeye and Lieutenant Havoc, completely unaware of what I'd find. But to my surprise, all the information about the case and all the evidence gathered by the three previous detectives had been organized in a single file by a tall man with an incredible mind for details. This man, Warrant Officer Vato Falman, worked with the investigators, but had never led an investigation himself. He said he had no field experience and preferred to work in the office. As he was a little older than the others who worked there, they respected his wish to stay indoors. But I had a case to investigate and no time to waste. I decided to lead the investigation myself and ordered Falman to leave his refuge and join me._

 _We made our breakthrough in less than a week and arrested our criminal a few days later, but there were times when I wondered who was really in charge. Falman would often tell me what to do, although he always excused himself and saluted me nervously afterwards. He was very surprised when I asked him to come work with me. I knew he was afraid of leaving his little office so I had it arranged and didn't give him a choice. He admitted, only months later, that leaving that dingy investigators' office had been one of the best things that had happened to him since the beginning of his career._

Next there was Lieutenant Breda, who should have been the last to join his team. Mustang had worked with the man when floods destroyed an entire city near the Eastern border. Heymans Breda was a clever strategist, not too attentive to details, but that's what Mustang had Falman for anyway. By then Mustang had become Colonel and needed more people to work with him. He had more and more work to do. He asked General Hayes about the second lieutenant and found out he had been offered a position in Central City.

 _I asked Hayes about what kind of work he was going to do, but the general didn't know. Instead, he arranged for me to talk to Lieutenant Breda and I asked him myself. He had been offered a job to supervise the academy training. However, he told me, he didn't like cadets much. A bunch of scaredy cats, that's how he described them. They would need a lot of coaching, yelling, and encouragement, and then when they had learned it all, they would go to battle and get killed. Lieutenant Breda said he had been to enough funerals for a lifetime already._

 _Hadn't we all?_

 _I asked him to come work for me and he said he would think about it. I didn't think he seemed to be interested, but a week later he called and took my offer. I thought that was it. And two weeks later I was going to the countryside to look for two famous alchemists whose reputation had traveled quite far._

Roy read the names 'Edward and Alphonse Elric' and started wondering, just how old could Alphonse be? The boy he had met there in Zhu Xia couldn't be even twenty yet. He understood when he kept on reading, that there had been a misunderstanding. The two famous alchemists were just kids. He read about their story, part of it coming back naturally to him, the gaps left filled by the notes in the journal. It was hard to believe that the Alphonse he knew had been stuck in a suit of armor for years. And Edward, the older brother who had helped save the nation from the homunculi conspiracy, was a reckless teenager. He finished reading about the Elric brothers and got to how he had met the young sergeant.

He hadn't been looking for anyone else to work for him on the day he went to the training field to talk to Drill Sergeant Brent. He merely needed to let Brent know that he'd be needing some documents in a couple of days and Brent should get them ready soon. But on that day, out there in the battlefield simulation course, Brent was giving the tech squads their training lessons.

 _Sergeant Brent invited me to see the simulation track he had come up with himself. There was a tunnel, a wooden-board bridge over a pool, a large open area where they might be attacked and a dugout with a damaged radio inside. The cadets had to cross the field despite the rubber bullets and some fake grenades filled with red paint. Other soldiers were around the field, waiting for them. If they managed to get to the broken radio, they had a simple repair to do before they could communicate with Brent. All this had to be done in a five-minute time limit._

 _Most of the cadets looked like headless chicken running around, and when I was thinking that Brent's sadistic personality had created an impossible track for those unexperienced kids, an even younger lad came next. His own clothes looked big for him because he was too thin. Brent had nicknames for every man he trained. They weren't allowed to use their real names until they had completed his training. This specific kid he called 'Miner'._

 _Miner took off like a madman. His small figure helped him cross the tunnel quickly. The storm of rubber bullets started when he got to the bridge, but different from the others, he didn't slow down to try to keep his balance. He just ran through it and jumped before gravity had a chance to bring him down into the pool. He rolled on the ground and ended up in the dugout. Brent pulled his clock and waited. A couple more minutes and the cadet's voice came through the radio. He was the only one to finish the track that day._

Roy didn't have to continue reading to remember what happened next. Memories were coming back more easily now.

" _Miner! Get your ass here! Colonel Mustang wants to talk to you!" Brent shouted and the lad left the simulation field, covered in dirt and grass, but happy to have completed it._

" _Why do they call you Miner?" Mustang asked him. He couldn't have worked in a mine, he still looked like a kid._

" _I worked in a mine with my father, Sir."_

" _Why the communication squad, then?"_

" _I wasn't very good at working in the mine, but I enjoyed fixing things. Sir," the lad replied._

 _Mustang let Miner go after that, and Brent took the opportunity to tell him about the lad. Miner was one of the few who already knew about radios and phones when he got there and had taught the others a lot._

" _He's helpful and trustworthy and he's got the best grades in most theoretical classes. He's not very strong, though. We had to order the cadets to carry some sandbags, but I left him out. He'd probably get flat feet."_

" _Call him again," Roy said. A communication tech should be useful. He had actually been thinking that he needed one. Brent shouted and Miner was back quickly, apparently worried that something was wrong._

" _Sir?"_

" _What's your name?"_

" _Miner, Sir."_

" _Your real name."_

" _Oh, sorry, Sir. Kain Fuery, Sir."_

" _When you have graduated, come to my office. I may have a job for you,"_

" _Y-Yes, Sir!" the lad replied loudly, very surprised._

 _Mustang turned around and walked out of the field. He could still hear Fuery ask Brent about him. The name 'Roy Mustang' didn't ring any bells, but when Brent said 'Flame Alchemist', the cadet was astonished. Roy wished he had gotten his reputation with his name only, but the words 'Flame Alchemist' accompanied him everywhere he went. And so he would use them. It would be foolish not to. He had goals to fulfill and no time to waste on hypocrisy._

Goals to fulfill. No time to waste on hypocrisy. Mustang felt the idea slowly seep out of the memory block, and the void talked back to him, giving a meaning to his existence for the first time. That was why he hadn't been able to commit suicide. He couldn't die because he had a purpose in his life, a purpose that had an important meaning to him. Not only did he have to atone for his sins in Ishval, but he also wanted to promote change and set the foundations for a democracy. Fuhrer Grumman didn't want to do this himself, but he knew of Roy's intentions and believed him to be the right person to do it.

* * *

 **A/N:** Yup, lots of flashback. I hope you like flashbacks. Thanks for reading guys, and sorry for posting one day late. Leave a review if you can please! See you next Friday!


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** FMA doesn't belong to me and nor does the song I used for this chapter's title.

I want to say thanks to everyone who's reading and to my awesome beta-reader, ssadropout! Also, the song I picked for this chapter is very old and most of you probably don't know it, but it's one of my favorites, so go check it on youtube or something, if you like. It has nothing to do with any of the other songs I've picked so far, but I think it's worth listening to.

* * *

 **Chapter 11 – Invincible**

 _Invincible – Pat Benatar_

* * *

The Huaa Entrance was the main way for the Xingese troops to bring weapons, medical supplies, and food into Zhu Xia. But as the area was constantly under attack, the transportation had to be suspended every now and then. Bombshells had broken the silence of the early morning as usual, but the soldiers learned of the consequences only at lunch time, when the Guang Tahe had once more succeeded in surrounding the troops.

"How can they even call this lunch?" Havoc protested, as he used his fork to poke the boiled potatoes with small pieces of chicken in his metal cup.

The amount of food barely filled half of the cup. It was all they had gotten that day, and rumors had it that there might be no food for dinner at all. The carriages with food for the soup kitchen had been exploded and only one had made it to the base, bringing some food, but definitely not enough. By Jean's side, Mustang, Alphonse and Falman also stared at the food they had gotten, knowing they would be hungry again in two hours at best.

"Can't they use the other ways they've opened to bring food and supplies?" Alphonse asked the others.

"How do you think we have anything to eat now? They brought more ammunition and some food, but the other ways are too uneven for trucks or even carriages and men on foot have been shot by their snipers often," Havoc explained. "There are just too many places for snipers to hide around here."

They all started to eat slowly, as if chewing the food for longer could trick their stomachs. Falman however, pulled a second metal cup from his haversack and started picking pieces of potato and chicken from his own cup and putting it in the empty cup.

"What are you doing, Lieutenant?" Mustang asked him.

"I saw the cook making soup from the chicken bones and what was left of the potatoes. He said it was for the people hospitalized."

"So?" Havoc asked.

"It smelled awful. I'm not that hungry."

"Are you feeling sick?" Alphonse asked the soldier.

"No, I'm fine," Falman replied.

Alphonse then noticed Havoc make a frustrated face and pick some food from his cup as well. He also put it in the extra cup, and Mustang did the same after a few moments.

"Guess I'm not that hungry either," Jean said.

It took Alphonse some time to understand what was going on and when he did, he had almost nothing left to donate to the extra cup. Still, the amount of food they managed to save had added up to another portion. Alphonse watched as Falman stood up and left for the dressing station. Sergeant Fuery should get a decent meal if he were to recover from the amputation the day before.

"You didn't tell him we gave him our own food, did you?" Havoc asked Falman when the man came back.

"No, I told him you had flirted with a female cook and she gave you an extra portion to take to him."

"Did he fall for it?" Mustang asked.

"I think he did. He was happy to have something to eat."

Shouts came from not far away and a group of soldiers ran through the base, carrying injured civilians on stretchers. They rushed to the hospital and the group just watched them, feeling useless. So much pain and bloodshed. And they couldn't prevent it.

"And to think it all started because of me," Roy said grievously.

"What happened wasn't your fault, General," Alphonse replied. "All this was bound to happen sooner or later. The situation had been tense around this area for years."

"Plus, if anyone is to blame, that should be me, not you," Havoc added.

"You said something like that before," Mustang said. "Were you referring to my abduction?"

"Yes. I was with you when it happened. Hawkeye is always your bodyguard. That night I switched places with her so she could rest, and all this shit happened."

"I can't remember it, but I hardly think it's your fault."

"I think it would be healthier for us not to blame anyone for anything," Falman interrupted them. "No one could have predicted such an attack in Qyang."

"What exactly happened that day?" Mustang asked Havoc, who sighed and wondered if he should answer or just mention that they needed to go back to digging their dugouts. He didn't like to think of that night.

 _The stars glowed high up in the sky, their light beautiful though insignificant, as the street lights in Qyang were much stronger. Brigadier General Mustang had been called for a late meeting with the Xingese officers regarding the recent arrest of almost thirty militiamen in an operation to stop the train plundering. As Mustang was a high-rank officer, the Xingese government had required that he be escorted every time he had to walk out in the street. Roy hadn't accepted to be escorted by Xingese soldiers, so his own men had taken up the job._

 _Mustang was a famous alchemist, and he had mastered a deadly technique. Hence, he didn't think the Xingese escorts were necessary. He trusted his own subordinates to keep him safe in case something unexpected happened, but there in the heart of Qyang, who would dare make an attempt on his life? Even the Xingese authorities didn't believe an attack to be very likely and thus didn't object when Mustang turned down the Xingese bodyguards. Hawkeye had been by his side during most of their stay in Xing, but that night, Havoc had switched places with her, driving the general to the army building and back to the barracks._

" _How was the meeting?" Havoc asked, turning on the ignition as Mustang, in the back seat of the car, pulled an Amestrian newspaper of the previous week to read._

" _Reasonable. What I like about the Xingese is that they really worry about their people, even though sometimes they take too long to act and do what they have to do."_

" _Nobody's perfect, I guess."_

" _No, indeed."_

 _The car made a turn and accelerated in a narrow dark street heading to the barracks, when suddenly, Havoc's window was smashed by a bullet that dug into the back of the seat by his side. Glass flew everywhere, and other bullets hit the gas tank and the tires. Someone had emptied a gun at their car._

" _Keep driving, Havoc!" Mustang yelled, throwing the newspaper to the side and trying to keep his head down._

" _The gas tank has been hit, it can explode!" Havoc yelled in desperation, gripping the wheel, scared that another bullet would hit him – or Mustang – next, if he couldn't get them away from there._

" _It won't explode because of a bullet! Drive, damn it!"_

 _Another bullet hit the back window, covering Roy in shattered glass. He felt the car speed and knew they would have to leave the vehicle soon._

 _The tilting of the car due to the flat tire caused it to drift and the gasoline quickly poured out of the tank. Havoc tried to regain control of the vehicle, but to no avail. The car span and nearly flipped. Havoc stepped on the brakes just in time to avoid a side collision with a tree._

 _As soon as the car stopped, Mustang opened his door and jumped outside, positioning himself right behind the vehicle and trying to get a glimpse of the shooters. Havoc followed suit, standing right beside Mustang and pointing his gun towards the dark empty street. Windows in every building around were filled with light now, as curious though frightened people peered outside._

 _Silence followed. Havoc and Mustang waited for another bullet to be fired, or for someone to turn up and attack them, but nothing happened. A nervous gibberish took over. People in the windows watched attentively, very confused, but aside from that, there was no sign of commotion. Maybe it had been a lonely shooter, or someone who just held a grudge against foreigners._

 _A few minutes went by, but nothing else happened. People gathered around and the gibberish got louder. Havoc and Mustang risked moving away from the car and looking around, but saw nothing that called their attention. A car engine was heard in the distance, and a few seconds later, a police car stopped right in front of the two Amestrian officers who were still standing by their bullet-laden car. Two policemen got out, but they didn't speak a word in Amestrian. They pointed at the bullet holes in the car and Mustang indicated the empty street, before turning his palms up, as saying 'I don't know'._

 _The two policemen walked around, looking at everything attentively. One called Havoc to see something and the blond lieutenant kneeled on the ground to show the officer a bullet stuck in the tire. Havoc was finally beginning to calm down when he heard a loud noise and turned around without standing up. The other policeman had hit Mustang in the head from behind, knocking him out. The lieutenant tried to get his gun, but got kicked in the stomach with such strength all the air seemed to escape his chest. He fell and rolled over in pain. The air had abandoned him and he struggled to breathe. The man kicked him again twice in the lower back and in the back of his head, which caused him a great deal of pain._

 _Still on the ground, Jean turned his head and saw, horrified, as the two fake policemen dragged an unconscious Mustang into the car. Ignoring the overwhelming pain he felt, Havoc got to his feet just as the door of the car slammed shut. The engine was already running._

 _Mustang opened his eyes, but his vision was blurred. A sharp pain in the back of his head quickly made him remember what had happened, but before he had time to do anything, a piece of wet cloth was shoved onto his face. Roy punched and kicked violently as the car began to run, but the smell of some chemical product in the cloth made his strength dwindle. He couldn't use his alchemy in the enclosed space of a car, he would blow himself up along with his assailants. With one last effort Roy raised his head and saw Lieutenant Havoc running after the accelerating car. And then he lost consciousness again._

"I tried to follow the car, but it was useless. I saw you woke up, but they covered your face with a piece of cloth, and then the car accelerated and left. Must have been some of those chemicals they use to knock people out," Havoc completed his story. Only Alphonse and Mustang hadn't heard it yet.

"The Tahe men managed to take down police officers and steal a police car. No one could have guessed they would be so bold," Falman said.

"Falman is right," Roy then said. "They really wanted to get me. We should just be glad they didn't kill you."

Havoc didn't answer and they soon decided to go back to work. However, when they went back to their dugouts, there were no Xingese soldiers there to dig. After asking around and trying to find out why they weren't there, the Amestrian soldiers saw a Xingese officer calling them. He had come to tell them the digging had been suspended for a while. Anyone who wasn't fighting in the slums was supposed to rest in the shade and wait for orders.

"Why is that?" Mustang asked the Xingese soldier.

"We don't have the Huaa Entrance and we are almost surrounded again. We have little water and food. Our men are trying to get the Huaa Entrance free again," the Xingese man explained.

"What about our men?" Mustang asked Havoc once the guy had left. "Are they still trying to clear the way to where my memories were taken?"

"I don't know. I'll see if I can find out, Sir."

Jean left Falman, Alphonse and Mustang, and took off, still limping due to his injured ankle. It took him some time to get to where the Amestrian troops were gathered and even before he could find Bingham or Hawkeye, he could see the Amestrian soldiers were still working on their way to recovering Mustang's lost memories. It was important to do so, yes, but at what costs? Mustang wouldn't want people to die with the only purpose of retrieving his memory. Havoc managed to find Hawkeye in the middle of all those people, wondering if she agreed with that specific course of action or not. She did want Mustang to be back to normal. But would she let her feelings for the general cloud her judgment?

"Lieutenant Havoc, you're preaching to the choir," Riza said in an annoyed tone of voice when Havoc conveyed his concerns to her, far from Bingham or other soldiers. "I agree with you. I tried to reason with Colonel Bingham, but he believes that once the general has his memories, he'll blow up the enemies and everything will be over."

"Our men are going to die of dehydration if we can't get supplies here. What are we going to do?"

"I can't make him change his mind, but… Bingham might listen to the General," Hawkeye said, thinking about the idea. "Bring him here to talk to Bingham. Tell him not to ask nicely, but give him orders, like-"

"Like the Mustang we knew would do," Jean finished her sentence.

"Yes," Riza said, and watched as Jean left again, almost hopping as he tried to walk fast, since the injured ankle didn't help him.

Hawkeye wanted the general to be back to normal desperately. She wanted the Roy she had known so well, but she knew that dehydration could kill not just the low-rank soldiers, but any men in their troops, including Mustang himself. Lack of supplies and disease were enemies that didn't choose between privates and officers. They needed to keep their troops alive and in condition to fight. Sacrificing their men wasn't the way to recover Mustang's memories. Roy himself would never accept that. She could only hope that he had recovered enough of his old self to make Bingham listen to him.

Colonel Bingham had been asking Hawkeye for counsel, but basically he did what he wanted to do. However, he shouldn't have the audacity to contradict Mustang if the general was going to have his memories back later.

"I can't believe they are still trying to get to that place instead of fighting for the Huaa Entrance!" Mustang raised his voice.

"They're following Colonel Bingham's orders. Hawkeye already tried to convince him to help the Xingese, but he didn't listen."

"Why doesn't Rong order him to help?" Alphonse asked.

"Bingham brought his men here to help mostly because of Mustang. I believe Rong knows about that and doesn't wish to interfere,"Falman observed.

"Because of me? They're here to help the Xingese."

"Yes, they came to help the Xingese, which is a good thing, but they came mostly because of your involvement. What matters is that we're helping these poor bastards. But now, what we're thinking is that Colonel Bingham should listen to General Mustang," Havoc added.

"I don't have any authority in this place, didn't you tell me I'm temporarily incapacitated?" Mustang asked, turning to Falman, who looked back at him, but didn't have an answer to give him.

"Yes, it's true. But you will have your authority back when you recover your memories and Bingham knows that. If you give him orders, he won't have the guts to say otherwise. You just have to look pissed off," Havoc explained.

"I _am_ pissed off!" Roy replied angrily.

"Then come with me," Havoc said, with a spark in his eyes. "You'll tell Bingham to stop looking for the transmutation place and help take over the Huaa Entrance again."

Mustang, Falman and Alphonse followed the second lieutenant out of the base and towards the place where the Amestrian officers were gathered. Amestrian soldiers had gone far into the slums and taken over a great area, but skirmishes kept sending some of their men to the dressing station or straight to the next world every few hours.

They found Colonel Bingham in a stronger shack, along with Lieutenant Hawkeye and two other officers. Mustang stepped into the house and eyed Bingham angrily. The man hadn't even noticed his presence until the brigadier general spoke in his stern voice.

"Colonel Bingham. I need to have a word with you."

"Brigadier General Mustang!" Bingham said surprised, for a moment thinking that he looked like he had just retrieved his memories. But that couldn't be. No. It was just the way Mustang spoke that had given Bingham the impression that he had returned to normal.

As it was very hot outside because of the merciless desert heat, Bingham ordered the other officers to leave. He didn't want to go out in the sun himself. Only Hawkeye stayed, along with the men who had come with the general, which made Bingham think that she knew what Mustang wanted to say to him.

"What do you have to tell me?" Bingham asked once they were alone in the room with Mustang's subordinates.

"The Huaa Entrance has been taken from us again. The Xingese are fighting hard, but we are all running short of supplies, and the other paths aren't adequate for carrying water or food."

Bingham made an attempt at replying, but Mustang didn't let him speak just yet.

"We have little food and water left."

"The Xingese are dealing with that problem, Sir," Bingham said with a slight smile, as if he found Mustang's concerns somewhat funny. "Once we get to the place where those animals performed that transmutation, we'll get your memories back, and you, with your fire alchemy, General, will get us out of here easily."

"What if it doesn't work?" Mustang asked him angrily. "What if anything goes wrong? What if I'm hit by a shell like Sergeant Fuery was? What will you do then? Do you even _have_ a plan B?"

"Well, that's why you shouldn't be out here, General," Bingham answered in a patronizing tone. He suddenly seemed to be getting nervous, though the others couldn't tell if it was because he realized how easily his plan could fail, or if it was Mustang's presence there that affected him.

"Now let's get you back to the base where it's safer, shall we? You're our secret weapon. Those bastards won't know what hit them," Bingham continued, indicating the door and smiling faintly at Hawkeye, then at Havoc and finally Falman. None of them returned the gesture or moved.

"Colonel," Mustang said again, his voice growing grim. "There are too many 'ifs' in your plan. Our men need water and food to keep fighting, especially water. Stop hunting for the transmutation place and help the Xingese take over the Huaa Entrance again."

"Do you want to go back to Amestris, General? Or do you prefer to die in this barren land along with these Xingese kids? Because I know I want to go home. I assume you wish to go home as well. This isn't our fight."

"Our men are going to die of dehydration!" Mustang spat, and took a step towards Bingham, in a menacing way. Bingham took a step backwards. Apparently Roy had succeeded in intimidating him.

"There's enough water and food for us, maybe not for all the soldiers out there, but-"

"And it's not just water and food we need. We have civilians here and they need to be evacuated. I have a friend in the hospital, with an amputated leg, who is going to need antibiotics and painkillers and the doctors were already running short on both yesterday," Mustang continued, walking forward as Bingham walked away from him slowly, until the colonel's back hit a wall and he had no place else to go.

"Look, General," Bingham said, trying to sound calm, but failing terribly. He looked more like a cornered animal than a high-rank officer. "I understand the situation is hard for you, with your recent memory loss and all. And I believe that by 'friend', you mean subordinate. Let's at least use terms more appropriate for your rank, shall we?"

Havoc and Hawkeye glanced at each other for a moment. Bingham had a point about that, but they thought it best to ignore it for now.

Mustang just glared at Bingham in silence for a moment, then all of a sudden he grabbed the colonel by the collar of his shirt and shoved him against the wall. Bingham's thin body tensed as Mustang's well-built frame almost lifted him off the ground. The colonel whimpered and looked to Hawkeye, who didn't move. No one else in the room moved or said anything.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye, do something!" Bingham gasped.

"I'm afraid my hands are tied, Sir," she said, showing no emotion.

"Colonel. I'm going to get my memories back, and my authority as well. You may recall that I have a higher rank than you do. And I can make your life hell."

The colonel stared at Mustang, then nodded, defeated. Mustang let go of his shirt and told him again to call the troops back and send them to the Huaa Entrance to aid the Xingese. Bingham finally agreed, and left the shack rubbing his neck. Lieutenant Hawkeye gave Roy a knowing look and then followed the colonel.

"Did I overdo it?" Mustang asked and turned to Falman, Al and Havoc, once Bingham had left.

"Physically assaulting him wasn't exactly what I had in mind," Jean replied. "But it worked. Let's go back now. He was right about one thing at least. You should be at the base if possible. If the Tahe learns that you are still in Zhu Xia and we're trying to recover your memory, they will fire at us until no one is left alive."

The group exited the house and started on their way back to the base, when someone shouted their names and they turned around to see First Lieutenant Breda running in their direction.

"Lieutenant Breda, are you okay?" Falman asked the soldier.

"Yes, I mean, no," Breda said, trying to catch his breath.

"What's wrong?"

"Sergeant Fuery was injured, he's been taken to the hospital."

"That was yesterday," Alphonse told him.

"Yesterday?" Breda asked, surprised. "Is he okay?"

For a moment, no one answered and Breda bit his lip, afraid of what they would say. Fuery had been in his company, it was his responsibility to keep him safe. 'Protect those below you', Mustang had always said that.

"He's alive," Roy finally spoke. "Thanks to Havoc."

"Oh, good!" Breda breathed out in relief.

"One of his legs had to be amputated," Jean said.

"What?"

"But he's alive. Pay him a visit later if you can. He is bored at that Goddamned dressing station," Havoc said and asked Breda if he himself was all right. Breda told them he was fine, apart from not having slept much, and the group left him there to go back to the base. They walked a few steps and heard an awful noise. Breda had kicked some metal object and sent it flying.

Mustang stopped walking and watched the red-haired lieutenant walk back to his troops. He could now see why his men had done so much to bring him back from the slums. Havoc's going alone into the slums to bring Fuery back also made perfect sense. They were all very good friends. Maybe it had been the Promised Day and fighting side-by-side to prevent the end of the world they knew that had brought them so close.

"Let's go. We'll have a lot of work at the base when the injured start coming," Havoc called, and Roy followed them. The Huaa Entrance would surely provide them with a lot of casualties.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello everyone! Here's the chapter, posted without delays this time. I hope you like it and leave a review to make me happy. See you next Friday and have a good weekend everyone!


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA and I don't own the song used for the name of this chapter. I do own, however, a mashed-potatoed-brain that I use for writing and studying and working and all. It's where the crazy ideas come from.

I want to say thanks to everyone who's reading and to my awesome beta-reader, ssadropout!

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 **Chapter 12 – The Phoenix**

 _The Phoenix – Fall Out Boy_

* * *

"Move! Move!"

Soldiers held tight to their weapons and took off on a sprint, hiding again behind the wall of another house. Bullets followed them, hitting the ground many times and stopping only when the shooter was hit and fell from a window on the second floor of a dilapidated building. Xingese soldiers moved away from their hideouts and checked the body to be sure he was indeed dead and wouldn't try to detonate a hand grenade at them, as some had done before. Everything went quiet for a moment, before the orders were given to proceed and escort the trucks that were supposed to bring water into the slums.

The Huaa Entrance had again been seized by the National Army, with the help of the Amestrian soldiers, who had joined the battle for Huaa the day before. They could now try to bring the water, and later food and medicine. If everything worked out well, by the end of the day they'd be escorting civilians out of the slums and to the refugee camps.

"Easy there," Breda said to his men, as they gathered around a gallon that had been reserved for them. "There are others around guarding their posts. No one will get more than a cup of water for now."

There was a collective sigh of frustration, but all the men knew Lieutenant Breda was right. The red-haired soldier himself didn't drink more than one cup, though he would probably need at least three to slake his thirst. It was early afternoon and the heat was almost unbearable, and the small trucks went in and out of the base, slowly, but uninterruptedly. Many soldiers followed them, rifles in hand, pointed at the houses and roofs around them, ready to defend the vehicles with their lives. Water was a precious resource in the desert.

"That's why there have been so many new casualties," Fuery said, as Havoc stood by the side of his bed, waiting for him to finish drinking.

"It was necessary. At least we have water now. Food and medicine should be brought soon too," Havoc said, before taking the cup from Fuery and filling it again for a Xingese soldier with an injured arm, lying on the bed next to Fuery's.

Mustang had been told to stay on base because it was safer there. He should be far more helpful in the battlefield once he got his memories back than as a memory-stripped, regular soldier. However, he didn't want to sit around and do nothing while he waited for his turn to join the fight. Therefore, he and the other soldiers in charge of looking after him were doing whatever they could to help at the base, and the place that required most help right now was the dressing station.

Many tents had been put up and people rested underneath them, being cared for by a small group of doctors and nurses. But once the professionals were all busy with the new arrivals, they didn't care if the volunteers were officers.

Fuery just observed as his friends walked around the tents, distributing water and helping patients who had all sorts of requests, from help turning around in bed, to a bucket or something else in which they could pee.

One of the nurses told Alphonse to change the dressings of a few patients, and the boy wished he could just carry bedpans and empty them in the latrines outside like a nurse he had seen earlier. Some of the wounds he was asked to clean were very extensive and painful.

"Do you need anything?" Falman asked Fuery, as he noticed the sergeant seemed to be looking around for someone.

"I need to pee," he said in a depressed tone, and Falman got a bucket that had been laid aside for that use only.

Fuery thanked him and pulled the sheet aside, while looking around to see if any women were close by. He'd rather preserve some of his dignity, even though he didn't believe that he had much of it left by then. He found out he couldn't move by himself because the remaining leg was immobilized. Kain had quite a few small wounds from the shell fragments in both his legs up to his waist. All the stitches, the knee immobilization due to the partially ruptured tendon and the leg amputation now limited his movements quite significantly.

"I feel so stupid now," he said, as Falman helped him sit. The nurses hadn't given him any of his clothes back to put on, not even underwear. Fuery now felt relieved he didn't have any garments to take off, because that would have meant more pain and he definitely would have hated asking for help to undress.

"Why?" Falman asked the sergeant, but Kain didn't answer. Other patients called Falman when they saw the bucket, and the lieutenant had to carry the wooden object to the other side of the tent, where other bed-ridden patients were very glad to empty their bladders.

There were some shouts outside and someone entered the tents running from other soldiers who tried to get a hold of him. Falman recognized the Xingese boy who had taken Sergeant Fuery into the slums the day before. He had run into the tents, but an Amestrian private got him by the arm and tried to drag him outside.

"You're being taken to the refugee camp, you little idiot!" the private yelled, to which the kid yelled back in his own language, fighting to free himself from the soldier's grasp.

"Wait, private!" Falman called. "Stay here for a minute, we need an interpreter."

The soldier, though irritated as he was, couldn't do anything but obey. Fuery turned around in his bed, trying to see what the commotion was all about, but couldn't move enough to see what was going on. Falman walked out of the tent but soon came back, bringing Alphonse along.

"The boy has five minutes, or he'll miss the truck and will have to stay here until the next one leaves this base," the private said when Alphonse started talking to the kid in Xingese.

"It's okay. He just wants to say thank you," Al explained.

"All right… Five minutes," the private repeated, putting his rifle down and waiting.

Alphonse indicated one of the beds with his hand and the boy walked there slowly, apparently afraid of startling the soldier.

"Sergeant," Falman called and Fuery turned to meet the boy he had helped the day before. He was quiet for a moment, watching tears begin to take shape in the child's eyes.

"Hi," Kain said at last, feeling very uncomfortable. "I hope your family is all right."

Alphonse translated his words to Xingese and the boy dried his eyes quickly with the back of his hand before speaking shyly to Alphonse, who translated back to the Amestrian language.

"He says his dad was shot dead and his mother and his sisters were going to be executed."

"I'm sorry about your dad," was all Fuery could say in response.

The boy then got a thin chain he had around his neck with a pendant and held it towards Fuery, speaking in such a low voice Alphonse had to get closer to hear.

"His mother gave it to him. It's a good-luck charm. His mother and his two sisters are alive thanks to you, and so he wants you to have it."

"I can't have this," Kain replied, but the boy kept talking.

"He asked for your name."

"Kain Fuery," he said to the kid. "But tell him I can't have this," Fuery then turned to Alphonse.

Alphonse talked to the boy only for about a minute, but then the soldier who had been waiting for him called and the boy bowed to Fuery, before dropping the chain on his lap and running away. He left the tent in a hurry and the private followed him with a bored attitude.

"What? Wait!" Fuery called, but the boy didn't look back and disappeared.

"That's a cheung amulet," Alphonse said as Fuery picked up the object. "It's a very powerful good-luck charm in their culture."

"He shouldn't have given it to me."

"He asked me to tell you that he and his family will pray for your full recovery. He's thankful for what you did and sorry that it had such consequences for you."

"You should keep it," said another voice and the three men turned around to see Captain Hawkeye, who was standing close to them. She had come looking for Mustang and Alphonse and had just witnessed the scene.

"Captain, I didn't realize you were there," Fuery said, adjusting the sheet he had around his naked body quickly.

"Do you still feel stupid about what you did?" Falman asked Kain.

The sergeant sighed and said, "Maybe it was stupid of me, but it was the right thing to do." He examined the pendant, shaped like a coin and with a symbol in it. It was an old Xingese symbol for good luck, according to Alphonse. Fuery tried to put the chain around his own neck, but he couldn't hook the spring ring without looking at it.

"Here, let me help," Hawkeye offered and knelt down to hook the chain around the sergeant's neck.

"Thank you."

"Where is the general?" she asked Falman, standing up again.

"In the other tent with Lieutenant Havoc. Do you have any news?"

"Our men started looking around the empty houses and buildings since they couldn't go any further into the slums and found the general's uniform in an animal shed," she told them.

"The uniform he had ditched?" Kain asked. "So they must be close to…"

"Close to where the transmutation was performed," Hawkeye finished his sentence.

"We should do another diagnostic transmutation and check if we are really going in the right direction and how strong the energy link still is," Alphonse suggested.

"Then we have to do this before it gets dark. The light of your transmutation might call too much attention in the darkness," the captain said.

"Wait, Alphonse!" Fuery called before they all left. "Did that boy tell you his name?"

"Tai, if I recall. I didn't get his last name."

Fuery nodded, saying, "Thank you." The others said they'd come see the sergeant again later and left for the other tent.

They found both Mustang and Havoc changing dressings and cleaning wounds of soldiers and civilians. There was a pile of dirty bandages in a bucket on the ground and it smelled awful. Flies hovered above it, making it look even more disgusting.

"Sir," Hawkeye called, and Mustang finished bandaging the arm of a Xingese soldier before standing up to talk to her. Havoc also finished what he was doing and came to meet them.

"Our men found your uniform in an animal shed," Hawkeye told the general. "Alphonse wants to do another transmutation and see if we're going in the right direction."

"General Mustang has to go too, doesn't he?" Havoc asked.

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"It's okay. It's high time we found that place and got this over with," Roy replied, suppressing his doubts and fears. He had to face up to who he really was. He had been too long in the darkness, peering through the block in his mind and watching short scenes of his life, and it was time to see the whole picture. More than that, it was time to be General Mustang again.

"Let's go," he said and the others followed. Mustang's determination was what gave his men the strength to stand up against any foe. Little did they know, however, it was their courage that gave their general the strength to keep fighting.

They left the dressing station and walked around all the other tents and tired soldiers. Many of them were all dirty with a thick layer of dust on their skins. The dust mixed with their sweat and formed crusts on their faces and hands. The black uniforms of the Xingese soldiers assumed a dull shade of grey, and the blue Amestrian uniform lost its brightness to the sand as well.

Mustang took off his jacket to try and make the heat more bearable and kept on walking at a fast pace. He knew the way because he had gone to that area just the day before, to intimidate Bingham and get him to do what had to be done. It had apparently paid off. They now had the Huaa Entrance and a new clue about the transmutation place. His men followed him with rifles in hand and Roy was surprised when he noticed even Alphonse was holding a gun. The boy couldn't risk using his alchemy and calling attention to the fact that there was an alchemist there, but Roy hadn't expected him to voluntarily pull out his gun.

Alphonse himself had never thought that one day he would be in the middle of a battlefield, wearing the military uniform and carrying a fire weapon. It went against anything that he had ever imagined for his future. But he hadn't ever imagined that Mustang could have his memory taken away, nor that Xingese and Amestrian soldiers could fight side by side against the Guang Tahe inside the Slum City.

Colonel Bingham met them on their way and joined the group, though he looked far more nervous than the others, and they knew it wasn't for Mustang's safety that he was worried. They made it to a surveillance post and found Lieutenant Breda, already waiting for them.

"General," he said, showing his companions a blood-stained jacket and the rest of Mustang's uniform.

"Where exactly did you find them?" Hawkeye asked.

"That way," Heymans pointed to the end of a narrow street ahead of them, but Roy didn't even look at the red-haired man. He kept on walking, his eyes locked in on a hole in the wall of a shabby house. A window in the wall, actually. A window through which he had jumped, in panic, and found a place to hide, just a few days before.

"It was here," he told the others, looking through the window into the shed. The horse he had found that day wasn't there anymore, and neither were the clothes that once hung on the clothes line. But that was the place. He had rested there, changed clothes, and found the first clue to his identity while waiting there. Roy unconsciously searched for his dogtag, held it tight for a second, then let it go.

"Do you remember from which direction you were coming?" Bingham asked.

"I came down this street. But I can't remember exactly from where. There were too many people out here on that day, and I wasn't really paying attention to where I was going."

The soldiers were all silent, and after a short pause, Mustang continued speaking.

"I didn't know where to go, or if I had any chance of surviving. I didn't even know who I was, or why those people wanted to kill me. I ran because it was the only thing I could do. I was scared out of my mind."

"Well, now you know who you are at least," Breda tried to cheer him up. None of them – except for Hawkeye – was used to hearing Mustang talk about his feelings. He sounded vulnerable, which made them also feel vulnerable.

"Do I? Know who I am?" Roy asked him.

"Well, let's get this over with before bombshells start falling," Havoc rushed them and they all agreed.

Alphonse decided that the shed should be a good hideout once again and suggested that they do the transmutation inside it. Only the younger Elric and Mustang entered through the window, since the shed wasn't very spacious. All the others remained outside, keeping an eye in the empty streets around. They saw a faint light through the window, but in the daylight it was inconspicuous. Less than a minute later both alchemists climbed through the window and out of the shed again.

"The connection remains, though it's weaker than it was last time we did the transmutation," Alphonse said. "I think it won't last much longer. The compass pointed that way," he added, pointing northeastward.

"Can you tell how far we are from the place?" Hawkeye asked.

"No."

"It wasn't very far," Roy told them. "I remember running a lot, but there were so many people I couldn't run in a straight line."

Roy took a few steps in the northeast direction, but Breda held him by the arm.

"That area hasn't been cleared yet, General. It's not safe for you to go there right now."

"Yes. Yes, of course," Mustang replied, as if waking up from a dream. He turned around and followed the others down the street and back to the base. Bingham told them he would gather the companies and they would march in that direction without bringing down any of the houses. He asked Roy for details about the place, but the general could only describe the inside of the house. When he had escaped, he hadn't looked back to see what the place looked like.

So close. So close he was to finally meeting himself. Roy walked back to the base with his men, wondering how much longer he would have to wait. He tried to keep his mind busy with all the work at the base, and soon more soldiers started to arrive at the base through the Huaa Entrance and other hilly ways into the slums. Amestrian and Xingese troops arrived to help and entered Zhu Xia, finding no resistance. The Guang Tahe had already given up on that area.

Breda gathered his platoon and waited for Bingham's orders. Soon they were told to keep looking for a house that matched Mustang's description of the place where he had been held captive. The soldiers advanced and began to clear house by house, but soon found some Tahe men that were still fighting. They kept hiding on the roofs and shooting at the soldiers. Apparently, the militia had regrouped north of there and had decided to hinder their progress. Once the Drachman arrived, the conflict was bound to get much worse.

Getting Mustang's memories back was important, but when daylight started fading away again, Breda called his men and told them to establish their posts and stop advancing. The other lieutenants also called their platoons, and Bingham was informed that it was impossible to continue the operation until the next morning.

"As soon as the sun rises, I want every man out there. I'm bringing another four platoons tomorrow," Bingham said to Captain Hawkeye, who saluted him and left to give the soldiers their orders. She then was able to go back to the base with Colonel Bingham, and found Roy, Falman, Havoc and Alphonse around a fire. The base was crowded, with both Xingese and Amestrian soldiers, but the group had managed to find a place for themselves. Hawkeye joined them, sitting by the fire and removing her boots to let her feet dry properly. All the others around her had already done the same.

"It's likely that we'll find the place tomorrow," she told them.

"So I'll recover my memories," Mustang said.

"Yes."

"That also means I'll finally be able to fight as an alchemist," Roy continued.

Hawkeye nodded silently, knowing that the situation should change drastically once Mustang was back to his normal self. He would be able to fight, but that also meant he would _need_ to fight. He would be ahead of all the Amestrian soldiers, exposed, and before not just the Guang Tahe, but also Drachma. They all would.

"I might not have time tomorrow, but if anything happens,"

"What the hell?" Havoc interrupted Mustang all of a sudden. "There's no such thing as that. We don't say this kind of bullshit, got it?"

"I just want to thank you guys for all-" Roy tried to continue, but was interrupted again, by Alphonse this time.

"You can thank us once we get your memories back."

"Nah, he won't thank us once he's back to normal," Havoc joked. "He'll be too proud of himself again, and won't say a word."

Roy gave up on the matter. He wanted to thank them, but doing that now felt like saying goodbye, and he didn't want to do that. They went to sleep after they got some dinner, but Mustang barely managed to rest. He was too anxious.

And on the next day, the soldiers were out in the slums along with the first light of day. It was close to nine o'clock when Breda got called by some privates to a house they had broken into, not so far away from where Mustang had ditched his uniform. Heymans walked into the two-room house and looked around, noticing some details Roy had mentioned. There was hideous yellowed wallpaper and also some weather-worn furniture. Looking around they found some cut rope on the ground and noticed it had blood stains on it. Breda picked it up to look more closely, and saw there were blue fibers stuck to the rope. And there was a spot in the middle of the house which had apparently been struck by a small fire. It might be the place where Tao Wang had met his demise.

"This must be the place. Is there a basement here?" he asked the privates. And indeed there was, as one of them pointed at a door hanging open. Another soldier called and Breda went down the stairs and into the dark underground room. The private that had called him lit up a flashlight and pointed it at the walls of the basement.

Breda felt something in his stomach twist and churn. The flashlight illuminated the small basement and on one of the corners, the plaster had been removed. It looked like someone had tried to dig with his bare hands, before hitting the brick underneath and giving up on the idea. Breda thought that at least if he didn't point his flashlight that way, nobody would notice it. He then turned to the floor and found an alkahestry symbol. It had been partially erased, probably by Mustang's pacing back and forth, but Alphonse had already said the symbol didn't need to be intact for them to perform the reverse transmutation.

"Let's bring the general here. This has got to be the place, though it looks more like a torture chamber than a transmutation site."

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 **A/N:** Yay! New chapter! Not delayed or anything! I hope you liked it and leave a review for me. It will make me happy. Thanks for reading and see you next week!


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. Ask my cat.

I want to say thanks to everyone who's reading and to my awesome beta-reader, ssadropout!

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 **Chapter 13 – Not Gonna Die**

 _Not Gonna Die - Skillet_

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Fear had some interesting characteristics. It could be irrational or logical, originate from previous experiences or come out of nowhere and still strike one's mind with the intensity of a tidal wave. Despite being what kept a soldier alert – and therefore alive – during long hours awake in a battlefield, it could also overwhelm those more susceptible and render them useless. Notwithstanding its particularities, fear was fear, and would always send bouts of adrenaline into one's blood, making the person's mind rush and the heart beat faster. A maddening feeling that arrived unannounced to inexorably crush a person's chest.

Breda held the flashlight and Mustang stood at the door, looking at the basement where his nightmare had begun. Walking into that place was like meeting the void again – sword in hand, a knight fighting the dragons of his own mind. That place felt so small Roy didn't understand how so many people could fit in there. It made him feel terrible agony, and he tried his best to conceal his anxiety from the others.

"This is the right place, isn't it?" Hawkeye asked, taking a look around the small basement. It was so small and dark she couldn't even imagine what it must have felt like for Mustang to wake up in there, not even knowing his own name.

Alphonse came in as well and checked the symbol on the floor. It was in fact what he had expected. Breda and the others left the room, though the red-haired lieutenant remained at the door, still holding the flashlight. Hawkeye walked with Falman to the ground level and they waited there with Havoc. There was some noise outside, mostly distant voices, but nothing too worrisome. Hawkeye tried to remain calm, but she could feel her heartbeat in her throat already.

"It's going to work. Relax. He'll soon be the Mustang we know," Havoc said to her, though he too, was apprehensive.

Inside the basement, Alphonse asked the general if he was ready.

"That's what we're here for. It doesn't matter if I'm ready or not," the man replied.

On the ground floor, Falman watched the door to the basement where Breda stood attentively, waiting for anything to happen. The silence and the absence of any kind of alchemy light made the time slow down for them. Outside, voices grew louder, distinctively speaking Xingese, but there didn't seem to be any kind of commotion.

Alphonse made a small array on the ground, meant to reverse the reaction performed previously and asked Mustang to step onto it. The general obeyed, though he wasn't sure whether he would like what was going to happen next. At last the younger Elric knelt down and touched the floor, making only the symbol he had drawn himself shine.

Roy caught his breath when a sharp pain went through his head almost like a needle had just entered his skull. He felt the world around him spin as if he had gotten drunk very fast, and then it all came. The void was gone it gave way to so much at once the general felt like he was going to collapse. Being adopted, studying alchemy, meeting Riza, watching her father die, joining the army, going to Ishval, the Ishval massacre, and trying to put the pieces of his shattered soul back together after it. Everyone he had met became more real. The Mustang they knew became real. He finally knew who he was. He finally knew which moments of his life he despised and which ones he cherished.

"Are you okay?"

Mustang opened his eyes and met Breda's worried expression. He was lying down on the floor of the basement, with Breda and Alphonse by his side. Hawkeye was coming down the stairs followed by Havoc and Falman.

"I am, I think I am," he answered, as Heymans grabbed him by the arm to help him stand up.

"Did it work?" Havoc asked, obviously anxious to know what his answer would be.

"Yes, it did," Roy managed to say, after a couple of moments. "It's me."

Everyone breathed out in relief. It wasn't all over because the conflict hadn't finished, but they could now see a possibility of going home, back to their normal lives again. Breda finally let go of the general, and Roy turned around to see Hawkeye smiling at him. Regardless of what anyone around would think, Mustang walked to her and hugged her tight. She hugged him back and noticed that all the others around them smiled.

"Damn. I'm sorry that I made you all go through this," Roy said as he stepped back, making a huge effort not to let his feelings for Hawkeye too obvious in front of Breda, Falman and Alphonse. Havoc already knew about them, but the others didn't. Mustang felt that wasn't the best moment to let them find out.

"You don't need to apologize. But a 'thank you for saving my ass' would be nice," Havoc said in a good mood.

"Thank you," Mustang said, finding it funny that even in that situation, Havoc still had the nerve to mock him. "Really. Thank you for going to such lengths to help me."

Alarmed voices came from the ground floor upstairs, drawing everyone's attention to the door. A brown-haired soldier's face flashed by the door, shouting at them.

"Rocket launchers! Get out of the house! Now!"

In less than a split second, the group all became alert and ready to fight. They had the Flame Alchemist by their side again and nobody would take them down easily. An explosion was heard outside and the entire house was shaken violently.

"General!" Hawkeye called and gave Roy a pair of gloves she had in her pocket. They climbed the stairs and exited the basement just as Mustang got his gloves ready to counterattack. The other soldiers were looking for cover when another rocket hit the construction.

Inside the house, Mustang's group didn't have time to make it to the door. The whole structure collapsed on their heads, making everything dark again.

Voices started calling, people were shouting. The air reeked of gunpowder and dust.

Alphonse felt himself trapped as everything around him stopped moving and the dust entered his airway, making him cough violently. It only caused more dust to be suspended in the air. The boy tried to move and noticed that despite his legs being partially buried, he could move his arms slowly. There was a beam of sunlight tearing through the rubble above and then there were many voices calling different people. When Al heard someone call his name, he shouted back, saying he was alright. He could move. He could feel both his arms and legs. The rubble over his head was moved, and a hand reached down to him. More rubble was removed and Alphonse managed to hold the hand that was offered to him.

Lieutenant Breda pulled Alphonse out of the rubble with some difficulty. He was covered in dust and had a bad-looking cut on his lower lip, but just like Alphonse, he seemed to have escaped with only minor injuries. Both men had to drop to the ground and cover their heads as they heard shots being fired. Breda fumbled for his gun, but when another shot echoed terribly close to them, an explosion followed, and merciless flames licked the air above them. The Fire Alchemist was back.

"Everyone okay?" Breda yelled, standing up again.

"Somebody help me here!" Hawkeye's muffled voice came from under what was left of one of the walls of the house.

Mustang, Breda and Alphonse hurried to her aid, followed by other Amestrian soldiers who had survived the explosion and they all started pulling beams and bricks, throwing them as far as possible. A few seconds later, as the group finally got to see Hawkeye and Falman trapped underneath the debris, Havoc joined them, apparently unhurt.

"Are you all right?" Mustang asked nervously from the top of the debris pile.

She had to be all right. After everything that had happened, couldn't those militiamen give them even a minute to rest and recover? How much more could they wish to take away from them?

"Falman is injured!" Hawkeye replied, to which the others tried to call the older soldier, but got no answer.

"Is he breathing?" Breda asked her. They had to be prepared for the worst.

Riza wasn't even sure. His body was limp and he didn't move. He had also been partially buried by the debris, and the pile of rubble made it difficult for Hawkeye to get to him. But she could see Falman had a bad head injury, and blood was trickling down his face, staining his uniform. Hawkeye made an effort to reach him, feeling a horrible pain in the left side of her abdomen as she moved away from a brick or some piece of rock that had been pressed against her side. She managed to get closer to examine the soldier, and confirmed, relieved, that Falman was still breathing.

"Falman, talk to me!" she called him again, but got no reply.

There was a lot of rubble between them, and something had trapped Hawkeye's left leg, so she couldn't free herself. Dust kept falling from above, accompanied by some pebbles and a few bigger pieces of bricks and stones. The group worked quickly to try to pull them out, but they had to be careful not to bury the two Amestrians even more.

"We're almost there! Give us cover!" Havoc shouted to the Amestrian privates, most of whom had already positioned themselves away from where Hawkeye and Falman were still stuck. No other rockets had been launched, but the enemies had guns and rifles with them.

Shots were fired from far away, and Mustang soon noticed he was the target. He had to hide behind the collapsed structure, and the others all had to interrupt their attempt at rescue to fight the attackers.

"Where are the shots coming from?"

"The roof of the two-story house! There are more, but I can't see!" Havoc yelled.

Mustang made an attempt at leaving his hideout just long enough to attack with his fire alchemy, but shots struck the rubble very close to him and he had to duck again. He slid down the pile of rubble, just in time to avoid a shot from a weapon of bigger caliber. Around him, all the other soldiers crawled with their heads down, trying to find a place from where they could shoot. Alphonse hid behind the remains of the neighboring house, also destroyed in the explosion, and managed to get a glimpse of one of the shooters at a window. He called to Breda, who was close to him.

"I'll draw him out. Can you get him from here?" the boy asked, almost taken over by panic.

"Don't stand up, you'll get shot!" Breda shouted at him, pulling him down by his leg.

"I won't! Just get that shooter if you can!"

The boy took off his military jacket and tossed it over a bigger piece of a destroyed wall. Taken by the adrenaline rush, he just hoped they could shoot down their attackers so the bullets would stop flying. The noise was unbearable. If only it could stop.

Alphonse used his alchemy to raise the ground, taking the blue uniform jacket with it. The shooter at the window rose just a little, trying to aim at what he thought was a soldier. Breda didn't miss the opportunity. He fired twice and hit him. The man's body twisted in the air, before toppling forward and down the window. Alphonse swallowed, but he didn't even have any saliva left and his throat hurt with the dryness of his mouth.

Once he wasn't uninterruptedly being shot at, Mustang managed to rise and attack the other shooters who were hiding in the houses around them. His flames caused loud explosions and whoever had the time covered his ears. One more blast destroyed an unsteady shack and the shooting ceased.

"Get them out, now!" Mustang ordered, and they finally managed to make way. They pulled Falman first, then Hawkeye.

The grey-haired lieutenant didn't react to being rescued. He was still bleeding profusely from a head injury, and all his hair was red. The blood was beginning to form clots, but it still didn't stop flowing out. They inspected the injury quickly, and there didn't seem to be any bone exposed, but they couldn't assess it very well. There was a mess of hair, dust and blood over it.

Breda lifted Falman with some difficulty as the man was significantly taller, and got the lieutenant on his shoulders – the typical fireman's carry.

"Hawkeye, are you okay?" Mustang asked Riza in a hurry.

"I'm fine. We need to get Falman to the dressing station," she said, taking a couple of steps forward. Her left side hurt and she caught her breath, before bending over slightly.

"You're hurt."

"I'm fine," she insisted, but Mustang pulled her arm and slid it over his shoulders to help her walk. It did seem to relieve the pain a little, and Hawkeye was thankful for his help.

They rushed back, meeting more Amestrian soldiers on the way. When they arrived at the base, there were doctors waiting in the dressing station already. They took Falman inside and started cleaning his injuries, while the others remained outside.

"You have to see a doctor, Hawkeye," Mustang told the captain.

"I'm walking and talking. I'm fine, just sore," she replied, as the pain had indeed eased a little.

"Are you sure?"

"I got a rock pressed against my ribs. It's nothing."

"Brigadier General!" a stern voice called and Mustang turned around to meet Colonel Bingham.

"I want to talk to Colonel Rong," Mustang ordered immediately.

Rong wasn't the one in charge of the entire operation, but of all the officers who spoke Amestrian, he was the one with the highest rank. Bingham saluted Mustang, relieved to not be in charge of such a messy operation anymore. He didn't even want to be there for starters. There was no hope of promotion for him in a battlefield like that.

Bingham soon came back with Rong and a Xingese general called Shui Sun. He was the one in command, and Mustang now met him for the first time. Shui Sun was a very tall man, about the same height as Falman. His body was heavily built and though he wasn't very muscular, he looked like he could take down a horse. Rong introduced Mustang to him quickly, and Roy asked for news about the Drachman soldiers and the Xingese reinforcements coming from the south.

"Our scouts reported that the Drachman are coming through the desert, probably guided by some of the Guang Tahe. About 800 men will reach the north of the city most likely in two days. We have 500 coming from a base in the south and they'll be here by sunset tonight."

Eight hundred. Mustang felt relieved. Eight hundred wasn't that much. It was obvious that Drachma didn't want to be part of the war, just keep it going for longer so they could profit from it.

"Order your men to go around Zhu Xia. They can't enter the city," Mustang said.

"What? Why?"

"If your men go around Zhu Xia, through Qyang, they can get to the north and meet the Drachman troops in the desert before they get here."

"You're saying we should have our five hundred men fight eight hundred?"

"Your men are used to fighting in the desert. Drachma is a cold country. They aren't used to this kind of weather and they'll be exhausted after the long trip. Even though they can travel by truck for most of the way, they'll have to walk for some time. If you get them by surprise before they can meet the Guang Tahe here, you'll have a greater chance of victory."

Rong stared mutely at Mustang for a couple of moments, before he turned to Shui Sun and spoke quickly in Xingese. The man seemed at least interested in the new strategy.

"How are we going to stop the Guang Tahe from joining them?"

"We'll gather all our men here, and march to the north of the city. We'll seize that area and force them to retreat towards the south. If we evacuate all the injured to Qyang at once, it will not be necessary to protect anything here anymore."

"Do you think five hundred will be enough to fight the Drachman?" Rong asked him.

"With the right strategy, yes." Mustang was sure about it.

Rong talked to Shui Sun again, and the general stared back at Mustang, as if analyzing him. He asked a question in a solemn tone of voice, and Rong, slightly embarrassed, translated it to Amestrian language.

"Would you send your own men into such a mission?"

"Yes. Yes, I would."

Mustang knew that if they had to fight inside Zhu Xia, things would be much worse. The conflict would be much longer, and they would sustain even greater losses.

"Your men will help protect the city then," Rong finally said. "As if this was your own land."

"Yes, Sir, we will," Mustang replied.

"And you Brigadier General, would be a true asset if you fought the Drachman with our men. Your fire alchemy would be an inestimable advantage if we want to surprise them."

Mustang opened his mouth to speak, but had to make an effort to actually say something. This meant being used as human weapon. He wouldn't let anyone use him like that again. His alchemy was his alone to decide what to do with it.

"If you believe I can be more useful against Drachma, Sir, then I will join them. But I will _not_ follow orders from the commanding officer," he said bluntly.

Rong translated his words quickly and General Shui Sun acknowledged his wish with a nod, before speaking to his subordinate. Mustang noticed Rong's expression change, as Shui Sun gave him his orders. The general then turned around and walked away, leaving Rong, who saluted him energetically.

"You and I are in command of those five hundred men coming, Brigadier General Mustang. We lose this battle, we'll die," Rong said. "I hope you know what you're doing."

Mustang could barely believe it. Shui Sun had just put him and Rong in charge of the five hundred men. Orders were sent by radio, and the incoming troops were forced to stop in Qyang. The soldiers at the base started gathering everything, preparing to move. The evacuation of the injured began despite some bomb shells falling randomly, but most soldiers still didn't know what was going on.

"Why are breaking camp?" Havoc asked as he and Breda joined Mustang and Rong outside the dressing station.

"Change of plans. I'll explain in a minute. How's Falman?"

"He's fine. He had a concussion, but he's doing much better."

"And Hawkeye?"

"She wasn't injured, Sir."

"Good. Colonel Rong and I will have to fight in the desert."

"What?" Havoc asked in disbelief, to which Mustang quickly summarized the plan, asking Havoc not to tell Hawekeye because he wanted to tell her himself. Soon the general had to leave with Rong, and Havoc stayed behind, wondering what Hawkeye would say of that. The soldiers all started organizing things and loading carriages. Trucks came to take the injured, as there was no possibility of waiting until it was safer to remove the patients. A couple of hours went by, and Mustang was finally told to get on one of the vehicles leaving Zhu Xia to Qyang.

"I need to talk to Captain Hawkeye first," he told Rong.

"I'll have someone call her. Stay here," the Xingese officer said, before shouting orders to some privates.

The two soldiers got on the truck and waited as casualties were brought in. The Xingese finally loaded one last injured soldier and the engine started running. Roy looked around nervously, trying to locate Hawkeye. He needed to see her one more time before he left. The truck started moving. It was too late. The general felt an urge to grip the ring he had on the chain around his neck, but refrained from doing that because Rong was sitting by his side.

Suddenly, the truck that had started moving halted, and two people jumped onto it. Mustang recognized Hawkeye and Alphonse immediately.

"You wanted to see me, Sir?"

"We're leaving. If you need to talk, talk," Rong complained. "She can come back to base with the truck and we can't wait any longer.

That said, he shouted to the driver and the truck started running again.

"Why are you leaving? Why was Alphonse ordered to leave too?" Hawkeye asked, sitting down in front of the general.

"I didn't order Alphonse to leave!" Mustang replied, turning to the blond boy. "Who told you to get on this truck?"

"General Shui Sun. He said I have to go with you because I'm an alchemist."

Roy felt anger burn inside him. Ordering a foreign officer to fight in a dangerous battle was one thing. Forcing a civilian boy was another.

"Why did you listen to him?" Mustang shouted.

"Go where?" Riza asked, worried. Mustang wouldn't accept to go away from the danger, whatever orders he had gotten, she knew he wasn't going to do anything safe. "What's going on?" Hawkeye insisted, and despite Rong's disapproving expression, Mustang told her and Alphonse in few words about what he had been ordered to do.

Only then did Roy realize, to his even greater despair, that Alphonse had gotten on that truck without even understanding what his orders were. Shui Sun hadn't explained to him that he was going to battle, and he had thought they were merely protecting the trucks that were carrying injured soldiers.

"I thought… He… He wants to use me as a human weapon!" the boy said in desperation.

"He can't force you. You're not in the army, he can't," Mustang tried to reassure him.

"But the pledge I signed to get my permit…"

"What pledge?" both Mustang and Hawkeye asked him at the same time.

"The pledge to serve the country if I was ordered to. I signed it to get my permit," the boy said dismally.

"I'll take care of it," Roy told him. They were all silent for a few moments, to Rong's relief, but it didn't last long.

"I'm going with you," Hawkeye said, not looking at the general.

"No, you're not. I'm not negotiating this with you. You stay and that's final."

"I'm not staying," Hawkeye insisted.

The truck was already moving. Rong watched the silence that had fallen over the Amestrian soldiers again, confused. On the floor, Alphonse embraced his bent knees, feeling the atmosphere of fear getting the best of him. When the truck exited Zhu Xia and got closer to the military hospital already in Qyang almost two hours later, the young alchemist couldn't hold himself any longer.

"Sir?" he asked Mustang shyly.

"What?" the man replied, coming back from his dark thoughts.

"Do you think we'll win this battle? Five hundred against eight hundred?"

"We'll have the high ground. I just hope we don't sustain too many losses."

"I'm going too. I don't want to desert them," Al said, knowing he wouldn't be able to leave them.

"You're not deserting anybody if you aren't a soldier!" Mustang shouted at him. His patience had already worn out.

The truck stopped and hospital employees and other soldiers began unloading the patients hurriedly. Rong and the Amestrian soldiers stood up to leave the vehicle as well, still arguing. The younger alchemist jumped to the ground brushing the dust from his uniform and holding tight to his rifle, which he barely knew how to use. It would probably be much better to use his alchemy only.

"Alphonse, if you go, you won't just be defending Xingese soldiers, this is a real battlefield. Do you think you're ready to kill?" Mustang grabbed him by the shoulder and made him turn around rudely before the boy could walk away.

"I'm not! No, I'm not, and I'll never be! But I already did! I helped draw enemy soldiers out to be shot at! But if I hadn't, maybe the people I care about would have been shot! And I would have been responsible for their deaths, because I was too scared to fight! I… I don't want to kill anyone, but all around me people are dying and I'm not making any difference with my principles!"

Roy stared at him as Alphonse tried to catch his breath. He seemed determined to go, and Mustang knew he had already lost that battle.

"If you walk away from me in that battlefield, even if for a second, I'll use my alchemy to tie you to the ground until all is over. You understand?"

"Yes, Sir!" Alphonse said, with a little more confidence this time. But his expression suddenly changed when he turned to Captain Hawkeye, by Roy's side.

She had stopped walking and something was obviously wrong.

"Hawkeye, are you okay?"

"I was feeling a little dizzy, but it's getting worse," she said with a grimace. She was obviously in pain.

Roy shouted at the doctors and nurses that were transporting patients to the hospital, asking for help. He and Alphonse helped Hawkeye sit down as a nurse came to check on her, pushing Mustang away and quickly assessing how alert Hawkeye seemed to be. It took the nurse no more than a few seconds to turn around and yell something in Xingese to the other hospital employees. Two doctors dropped everything and came towards them running. By Mustang's side, Hawkeye was slowly lying down already.

"Hawkeye! Talk to me, Hawkeye!"

Another nurse pushed the general away and the doctors got Hawkeye on a stretcher. An assistant also joined the group, apparently because he could speak both languages. He asked Hawkeye her name, rank and age.

Mustang knew the situation was bad when the captain answered the first question, took a few seconds to answer the second, but wasn't able to answer the third. She was losing consciousness very quickly. The group raised the stretcher and ran towards the hospital entrance, speaking to each other in Xingese. Mustang wanted to follow, but Xingese soldiers didn't let him.

"What were they saying?" Mustang asked Alphonse, grabbing the boy by his uniform.

"They said they'd take her to the emergency, I think she has internal bleeding."

"That can't be happening," Roy let out in despair, watching the entrance of the hospital, where those men had just disappeared carrying Hawkeye with them.

It couldn't be real. Not now. Roy had just gotten his memories back. He had finally found the ground to step on, and hell had pulled him down again. Would he ever find his way out of it?

* * *

 **A/N:** Did you think it'd be over? It's not! Muahahahahahaha! Well, it's over for today. I'll post another chapter next week if I survive my university exams. Thanks again for reading and leave a review with your opinion, please! See you next Friday!


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** Noooo, I don't own anything. If you sue me, you might get enough money to buy a hamburger at some junk food restaurant.

I want to say thanks to everyone who's reading and to my awesome beta-reader, ssadropout!

* * *

 **Chapter 14 – This is Gonna Hurt**

 _This is Gonna Hurt – Six a.m._

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Qyang and Zhu Xia were almost like separate worlds. The contrast between the two cities was strikingly clear-cut, but with all the recent developments, soldiers were now seen everywhere in Qyang too. Fortunately, those two worlds didn't mix because of the distance that separated them, and the trucks carrying soldiers who had just arrived could go through Qyang and towards the desert unnoticed by the Guang Tahe.

Outside the small military post in the north of Qyang, soldiers waited with their platoons. They used the darkness to conceal themselves after having been driven through the city unheeded, since they had split into small groups. Nobody living in Qyang could tell that a lot of soldiers had passed by. They gathered at the last military post inside the city before the cobblestones were replaced by sand and rock. And from there they went on to the Guo Ping Post on foot.

When they finally set camp at Guo Ping, already well into the desert, Mustang was very irritated and nervous. He hadn't been allowed to enter the hospital with Captain Hawkeye when she had collapsed just a few hours before. He wanted Rong to ask for information about her through the radio in one of the posts inside Qyang, but the colonel had apparently forgotten. He had allowed Alphonse to use the radio and try to find out, but the update on Riza's condition wasn't very relieving.

She had indeed suffered significant internal bleeding. A hematoma in her spleen had ruptured the splenic capsule, probably sometime during the truck trip to Qyang. Once the bleeding wasn't contained by any anatomical structure, it had become much more serious.

Alphonse's words still echoed inside Mustang's mind as he laid down inside a tent that had been set up for the two Amestrian alchemists.

" _They said her blood pressure was very low for a long time before they could bring it up. She made it through surgery but she might not wake up. They are monitoring her for a number of possible complications."_

" _What kind of complications?"_

" _Kidney failure, heart failure, or neurologic deficits,"_ he had said dismally. _"But it's too early to tell if she'll have any complications. They said so,"_ he added quickly as Mustang felt the same void of his memory-stripped days creep up on him again.

Mustang now stared at the dirty old cloth of the tent he was in and wondered how so many bad things could have happened in a row. He had recovered his memories early that same day, and now Hawkeye was in a hospital fighting for her life. Maybe they just didn't deserve to be happy. Maybe Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, didn't deserve to know such happiness after the Ishval massacre. He barely looked at Alphonse when the boy entered the tent, now wearing the Xingese uniform. The lad sat on the ground and put all his equipment down. Both alchemists had been given a lesson on how to survive during sandstorms and how to save water. Alphonse checked his sandstorm-protection mask and goggles and put them back in his backpack before casting a shy glance at Mustang.

The general didn't seem to have taken notice of his presence there, despite the small size of the tent, meant for no more than three people. Alphonse sighed and sat in silence for a long time, letting his mind travel. He wanted it to travel to some place far away, he wanted to think of anything else, but somehow his thoughts kept going back to the moment when still in Zhu Xia they had been attacked by rocket launchers, and later when Captain Hawkeye had been admitted to the hospital, already in Qyang.

Having seen Hawkeye collapse like that had made Alphonse feel scared. It reminded him of previous situations, when he had felt despair creep up on him, heralding difficult times to come. Like when Maes Hughes had been killed. He remembered how useless and small he had felt.

"I should have blown up that car," Mustang said absently, not looking at the boy.

Alphonse turned to the general, who was lying down with his uniform on, but no covers, despite the cold night air that had already started to bite their hands and faces.

"What are you talking about, Sir?"

"When they captured me. I woke up in the car before they used some chemical substance to knock me out again. I could have blown up the car."

"You'd have died too," Al said, worried about how Mustang seemed to have lost hope.

"It would have been just me, those three idiots, and nobody else. All this conflict wouldn't even have started and Hawkeye would be all right. If I had known all this would happen, I'd have blown up that car."

"Do you think Captain Hawkeye would be all right if you had done something like that? She's very close to you, isn't she? She'd be devastated."

"One way or the other, everything is all messed up. It's like we're not meant to be," Roy said sorrowfully.

Alphonse shot a confused glance at Mustang, before asking, "Not meant to be?"

"Forget it."

"Sir, are you…"

"I said forget it, Alphonse."

"You love her."

"Will you say it any louder? Maybe Colonel Rong didn't hear it," Roy said sarcastically, annoyed that he had let that slip. Even though only Alphonse was there to hear, he shouldn't have let the boy know.

Alphonse covered his mouth nervously and looked outside the tent. Having spotted Rong far away from their tent, he went back inside, still very surprised.

"Did you tell her how you feel about her? You have to tell her, Sir."

"She knows."

"Because you told her. You told her, right?" Al asked, as he wanted to be sure Mustang hadn't just assumed she knew. "Don't do like my brother did with Winry, seriously."

"Just forget it now, Alphonse."

"Did you tell her?" Alphonse still insisted.

Mustang wasn't able to understand how Alphonse could worry about such a thing with a life and death situation ahead of them.

" _What is he even doing here? He's a damn kid,_ " Roy thought, sitting up.

"I want you to do something for me," he told the boy.

"What?"

"Close your eyes."

"What for?" Al couldn't help but ask.

"Just do it."

The younger alchemist did as he was told, even though he couldn't imagine why Mustang would ask him that.

"I want you to imagine your house and your family. Can you see them?"

"Yes," Al replied, as the big farm house took shape inside his mind. Winry and Edward were there, maybe arguing about automail, and Granny was there too, cooking. The oven was on and the heat from it warmed up the entire house. The smell of food was delicious, and the dog sat by the stove, waiting for its share.

"Is your family at home?" Mustang asked.

"Yes."

"Somebody knocked on the door. Who's going to answer it?"

"Granny is in the kitchen. Ed went to get the door," Al replied, not sure where Mustang wanted to get.

"He opens it and there are two men standing in front of the door. They're wearing military uniforms. They introduce themselves, and ask for Edward Elric. Your brother will tell them that's his name, and they will ask to come inside."

"What do they want?" Alphonse asked, as he watched the men in his mind walking inside his house. Granny and Winry had come to meet them as well now.

"They ask everybody to sit down, and then one of them finally starts talking."

"What does he say?" Al asked, slightly nervous. He could feel the tense atmosphere form inside his imaginary living room.

"I have an important message from the secretary of the army. He has asked me to express his deep regret that your brother, Alphonse Elric, died in the desert outside Zhu Xia in Xing, while fighting alongside the Xingese army to protect the city from Drachman troops."

For a moment, Alphonse could even see the expression of confusion on Ed's face. His imagination took over and revealed the whole scene inside his head without his permission.

" _That's impossible, he's not even in the army. There must be a mistake!"_

" _I'm afraid we have positively identified his body."_

" _No, no, no… You have to be wrong. You're wrong!"_

"No!" Al opened his eyes and shot an angry look at Mustang. "Why are you telling me that? Why do you want me to imagine such a situation? It would destroy my family!"

"Yes. Yes, it would. You have to know, Alphonse. Things will get ugly there, they will," Roy said in an ominous tone. "That's why you have to be prepare-"

"Prepared to die?" Alphonse yelled angrily.

"No. Prepared to do whatever it takes to live. So the scene you just saw in your head doesn't ever happen."

"I want to live! You're the one who seems to have given up already!"

"I haven't. In a battlefield, only two things will take you back home. One is luck. You can't control that. The other is your will to fight and live. That is the only thing that depends on you. You have to fight, even if it means killing other people. You understand that, Alphonse?"

The boy nodded and looked to the other side, feeling reality loom over his head like lightning preparing to strike.

"I'm sorry," the general said.

"For what?" Al asked, still not looking back at the man.

"For having allowed you to come."

Alphonse nodded again slowly, repeatedly, absently.

Someone stepped outside the tent and a stern voice called them. Both alchemists left their accommodation to meet Colonel Rong, who wanted to discuss their strategy for the combat. They spent almost three hours debating, trying to figure out what the best way to use their alchemy was. Two alchemists fighting gave rise to a wide range of possibilities, hence making it difficult to choose the most suitable one. At least one thing seemed pretty conspicuous – traveling during the first hours of sunlight and stopping once the temperature rose was the best option they had. The Drachman would continue marching slowly in the heat, and the Xingese troops would wait for the tired foreign soldiers to walk right towards them.

At last the soldiers decided to get some sleep in order to be rested for the next day. Mustang and Alphonse lay down inside their tent, staring absently into nothing, as the gas lamp cast some light upon their weary faces. Mustang could not keep his mind from traveling back in time, back to when he had left for Ishval. At that time, he didn't know what was waiting for him. Now he did, and it didn't make him feel any better.

" _Promise me you'll be careful."_

 _Riza's sad tone of voice made Roy remember injured soldiers he had seen coming back from Ishval. He made an effort not to think of them, as he turned to his late master's daughter, hoping to cheer her up somehow. He had wanted so much to say goodbye to her before he left, but now he thought that maybe he would just make her worry more about him. She was obviously upset and he felt guilty, as he was the cause of her sorrow. He should make her happy instead, but how could he do that? He was going to war, and maybe wouldn't even come back, or maybe he would be brought back with blown up limbs and terrible burns, like so many lads he had seen._

 _Knowing that cheering people up wasn't exactly his best skill but determined to give it a shot, he took the opportunity to place an affectionate kiss on Riza's cheek when she looked away from him for a moment._

" _That… was a good luck kiss. Now you give me one too and I'll be safe," he said. The joke sounded silly even to him, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances. He turned his left cheek to her, aware that he sounded more like a teenager than a soldier, but not really concerned about it at that moment._

 _When she placed a hand on his chin and made him turn to face her, he thought for a moment she was irritated at his childish behavior. But instead of telling him off, she placed a kiss on his lips. It lasted no more than a couple of seconds, but Mustang needed some more time to find his voice again._

" _I didn't know you had feelings for me too," he said, before gently pulling Riza closer to kiss her again. Suddenly he wished, more than ever, that he didn't need to go to battle._

The night went by quickly, and the next day started with a long walk. Soldiers carried their heavy guns and equipment, marching relentlessly while the sun still allowed them. Close to the rocky hills that announced the mountain range nearby, they stopped to rest and take cover. The terrain was irregular and the enemies would have to come that way in order to avoid climbing or walking a much longer distance. There, at the barren land of the Xingese merciless desert, the troops hid and prepared for the incoming Drachman soldiers. Vultures flew in circles high up in the air, as though already anticipating a feast.

Alphonse looked at the dry rocky soil, and felt like it was staring back at him, waiting to receive him. The earth always welcomed the dead, even when no one else would. Nervously, Alphonse stomped a couple of times. In his own mind he wanted to tell the Xingese ground that it couldn't take him in, because he couldn't stay. He had to go back, no matter what.

During the day scouts couldn't risk getting close to the Drachmans, but they knew the enemies should arrive there before the end of the day. Soldiers hid behind the hills, and no one coming from the north would see them in time to react properly. At the top of the hill, camouflaged men watched the sand in the distance. Not even an animal stirred in the ground. Soldiers were allowed to have a drink of water and even eat a very light meal that was mostly meant to fool their stomachs and make them a little more comfortable.

The sun continued to shine brightly, and the Drachman soldiers looked at the heat haze like it was some kind of local curse. The weather was unbearable for them, even though they had traveled by truck for most of the way. Now even all the water they had brought wasn't enough. They didn't have much left, and had a hard time saving what was left of it. A Drachman lad threatened to trip and fall, and the others turned to him, cursing. They didn't want to carry anyone else. Five had fainted since the beginning of their trip. Others staggered behind during the day, catching up when the temperature fell.

They talked about how the Guang Tahe men would have frozen to death in less than a day if they had to cross the northern area, and that lifted their spirits somehow. At least until one of the commanders yelled at them to be quiet. Speaking made them more tired. The Tahe guide had said so, but right now, they didn't care what the Tahe idiot thought. They looked at the hills ahead, hoping to find an easy way around them. If that Tahe guy told them to climb up the hills, many would seriously consider starting a riot.

Still worried about the prospect of a difficult walk but glad as they started going around the elevated ways, the soldiers were all shocked when an explosion hit the ground, throwing rocks everywhere. A tower of fire exploded from the ground with such violence the hot air made the soldiers who were near cover their faces.

High-rank officers started yelling, sergeants and corporals tried to gather their men, but other explosions hit them, and voices were muffled amongst the horrible noise. Panic took over those who were closer, and people started running for their lives. But as the men tried to escape the ruthless flames that hissed and crackled, the ground rose underneath their feet, making many lose balance. Walls sprouted instantly from where there had been nothing but dust just seconds before.

One of the Drachman squads had just managed to gather when a huge wall divided their group and isolated three of them from the rest. Another explosion, smaller this time, hit the ground and raised dust in the air. Coughing and trying to see a way out or at least locate the enemy, the lads trembled, grasping their guns and feeling their chests heave and their hearts about to explode. A tower of flame erupted from the other side of the wall, and horrible screams were heard. When Xingese soldiers ran into the small space they were hiding, the lads dropped their guns and begged to be left alive.

Shots were now exchanged everywhere, though sometimes soldiers couldn't even see who they were shooting at. Screams could be heard everywhere, followed by explosions. Nowhere they went was quiet, or even stable. Walls kept emerging from the ground, forcing Drachman soldiers to be separated from their platoons. Sometimes they would trip on a body with bullet holes or a horrible carbonized corpse that sent shivers down their spines. One of the Drachman lads tossed his gun on the ground and knelt before a Xingese man the moment he saw one of the charcoaled corpses.

Only meters away, an entire squad tried to run but met face to face with a Xingese squad. Guns and knives were pulled, and the struggle that took place was one for dear life. The hell with the orders to help the Guang Tahe. The Drachman fought for a chance to live, but their energy had been drained by the heat and dehydration.

On the Xingese side, men fought hard to defend their land. Having two alchemists made things a lot easier and having a good strategy boosted their confidence. One of the youngest hands among all the Xingese held on to his rifle and watched with his squad as a wall emerged and separated a group of enemies from the rest of their troops. An explosion hit the other side of the wall, but nobody was injured. However, the Xingese knew it wasn't meant to injure anyone. They immediately started screaming, as if they were in unbearable pain. Another explosion hit the ground and they went silent for a few seconds, before going around and finding a bunch of Drachman privates, scared out of their minds.

Fear and weariness made quite a few surrender. The explosions and the moving ground made them terrified. And with all the dust, shooting, and people running, they couldn't tell that most of the explosions hadn't burned anyone. Screams they heard were often Xingese, meant to scare them into surrendering, but they couldn't know. People were dying and they didn't want to die too. Those who didn't believe surrendering was the best option still fought, running from the alchemy attacks and trying to shoot the dark uniformed lads they saw. Quite a few bodies that now lay flat on the ground were Xingese. After all, the Drachman did outnumber their troops.

Alphonse, as he had promised before, hadn't walked away from Mustang since the first explosion had scattered the enemies. Even though he had been happy their strategy was working, he now had begun to feel desperate, as the shooting and the fighting simply wouldn't cease. It wouldn't even slow down. Every time two or three scared Drachman soldiers surrendered and gave up their guns, others showed up and Alphonse barely had time to use his alchemy to protect himself from the bullets. His body now hurt and his heart felt about to jump out through his mouth. Breathing had become a struggle, and panic hovered over the alchemist's head.

"Keep it together, Al!" Mustang yelled at the boy, pulling him by the arm and away from the line of fire.

Someone had managed to get to a high place and was now shooting down the Xingese. Both alchemists looked around for their next target, when a bigger group ran in their direction, partly shooting, but mostly trying to run from bullets fired at them. The hills had scattered soldiers from both sides and sent them running in multiple directions. Alphonse produced a wall as cover when he saw those men coming towards them, but realized only a second later he had pushed Mustang away accidentally.

"Sir, are you okay?" he yelled.

The sound of steps running around the wall Al had just made suddenly seemed to disappear as one man went around it and stopped right in front of the blond alchemist. He wore the Drachman's uniform and had a gun. Before the man could shoot, Alphonse managed to hold his hands and they both fell to the ground, struggling for the weapon with all their strength. They rolled, kicked and pushed, but Al quickly realized the Drachman lad was taller and stronger. As both of them gripped the gun, Alphonse watched, shaking uncontrollably, as the gun they were fighting for was slowly turning to him.

They rolled over again, and Alphonse felt the other's knee on his stomach, pinning him down to the ground. The man's weight made it impossible for him to stand up. It all had lasted no more than ten seconds, but the gun was almost pointed at his head.

" _That's impossible, he's not even in the army. There must be a mistake!"_

" _I'm afraid we have positively identified his body."_

" _No, no, no… You have to be wrong. You're wrong!"_

"No!"

A shot echoed and the Drachman soldier fell, totally limp. A huge hole was now where his face used to be. Brain matter was splattered over the ground behind and blood started flowing out of the horrible wound. Alphonse felt sick. His right hand still shook, holding his own smoking gun, the one he had never used before. Someone called him in the distance, and the boy felt himself being lifted from the ground.

"Alphonse! Speak to me! Wake the fuck up! Are you hurt?"

As if he had just awakened from a nightmare, Alphonse recognized Mustang's face. The general still held him by the arm, shaking him violently. Al had blood on his uniform, but it wasn't his.

"I'm okay!" he managed.

"It's not over! Don't you fucking give up on me now!"

"No, Sir!" Alphonse shouted, before his mind registered something that immediately forced him out of his catatonia.

Before Mustang realized, a thick wall had emerged behind him. A series of loud bursts erupted, and sand went up in the air. Both Mustang and Alphonse threw themselves on the ground, as the deafening sound made their ears hurt.

"Machine guns!"

Mustang quickly assessed the situation. His trained mind didn't need more than a second to evaluate in how much danger they were, and this time it was bad. They were out in the open, with nothing more than a wall separating them from a squad armed with machine guns. The enemies would certainly run around the wall from both sides and they'd be surrounded in a split second.

By Roy's side, Alphonse hadn't even had enough time to stand up again. Just a damn kid. His reflexes were as good as any private's, even though he didn't have battlefield experience. But that didn't change the fact that he was just a kid.

"Stay down!" Mustang shouted, and stood up, using both his gloves to create two huge explosions. He couldn't see the enemies because the wall blocked his view, but they shouldn't have taken more than a few seconds to round the alchemical obstacle. Mustang's fire alchemy hit them right in the face, consuming the soldiers' flesh furiously. The ones who hadn't been killed turned around and ran. Mustang pulled Alphonse up again, relieved.

"Move, kid! Come on!"

Alphonse slapped his own face twice, before following the general towards a group that was still fighting. Minutes later, the Drachmans that were still fighting had been scattered in such a way all they could do now was surrender. None risked going into the desert because their most dangerous enemy was still the heat, not the Xingese. By the time darkness covered the desert, the shooting had ceased. Drachman guns had been taken away and their owners were now tied. People who were injured were cared for by the army nurses and silence reigned. Bodies were gathered and identified by their sorrowful comrades. The battle to defend Zhu Xia was over.

* * *

 **A/N:** Not the end yet, don't worry. I'm sorry for posting late again. Got a night shift at work. Anyway, leave a review, guys! We're close to the end and I'd like to know what you think of the story. So, that's it for now. See you next time!


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own FMA or the song used for the name of this chapter. But I do own enough energy drink and coffee to fill the tank of a car and drive.

I know I'm posting late again, sorry... Exams at the university... Hate them. Anyway, I want to say thanks to everybody who's reading and reviewing and to my wonderful beta-reader, ssadropout!

* * *

 **Chapter 15 – Fix You**

 _Fix You - Coldplay_

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Alphonse's feet hurt inside his boots. Blisters had formed on his soles from the long walk across the desert, but he hadn't really felt any pain until he put on his boots the next morning, after spending the night without them. The camp set overnight had been mostly quiet, but now a lot of activity was taking place, even though silence still seemed to reign. It was a silence of resignation and fear, one that created a dense atmosphere around.

The boy looked at the many Drachman lads that were sitting on the sand, with their hands tied behind their backs, under the cover of improvised tents. Around them Xingese soldiers walked back and forth, keeping a watchful eye on their prisoners. They were slowly evacuating them to Qyang, the injured ones first, but it would take a long time. Many Xingese soldiers had also been injured and had to be transferred as well. The only thing the Drachman could do now, was sit and wait, while their dead comrades were buried and the injured were taken away. Before the end of the day, most soldiers would be on their way to the city.

But to Alphonse none of it mattered much now. He had followed Mustang and Rong around, watching them debate the best strategy to bring everyone to Qyang safely without risking any prisoners escaping. This time he was happy that his help was not required, as he didn't feel able to focus on anything. He still felt numb with the shock of the violent battle and the sight of so many dead bodies being buried.

"How are you holding up?"

Alphonse turned his gaze away from the empty desert and found Mustang staring at him, with a concerned expression.

"I'm alive. I guess I should be happy for that."

"That's not what I asked."

"Are you asking me that because of the man I shot?"

"That too."

Alphonse thought of the moment he had shot his attacker dead and felt an unpleasant churn of his stomach. He could still see the man he had killed clearly in his mind. Both men turned to the empty desert ahead of them, feeling the cold wind bite their faces as it messed up their hair.

"I wish I could forget his face. But for some reason I don't think I'll be able to."

"It's not your fault that he's dead, Alphonse. You didn't make him come into battle. He knew he might get killed, but he came anyway."

"But I can't stop thinking that somewhere in Drachma his family won't have him home for dinner anymore."

"Don't think about things you can't change. It's better for you, trust me. You have to make peace with what happened and move on."

"Have you made peace with Ishval?" Alphonse asked, though he regretted it as soon as he finished saying it. Ishval was certainly something difficult for Mustang to talk about.

Mustang sighed, looked at him, then at the emptiness around again, before saying, „No, Alphonse. I haven't."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked that," the lad said.

"You should get some rest now."

Tired as he was, Alphonse didn't object. He didn't have any energy to keep on talking, even though there were many things he wanted to say. He wanted to thank Mustang for the wake-up call the day before; he wanted to tell the general he shouldn't blame himself for Ishval; that he too, should make peace with his past. But what would the right words be? He didn't know. And therefore he just agreed and went to their tent, as the other had told him to.

The night went on slowly. A full moon showed itself and lingered in the sky. Time seemed to have been frozen by the cold desert wind that easily numbed the unprotected faces and hands of the soldiers on watch. Mustang tossed and turned inside the tent, not being able to sleep at all. He was still thinking of the moment Riza had collapsed, and whether Xingese medicine was better or worse than Amestrian medicine. Were Xingese doctors good enough to save her? Was she even alive as he watched the empty darkness, loathing the dreadful silence? Maybe she wasn't and he was already alone in the world, unaware of the fact. He turned around again, facing the other side this time. His left arm was numb from supporting his head. He looked at his left hand and waited until enough blood flowed into it so he could move his fingers again. But nothing he did – or tried to think of – made time go any faster.

Alphonse couldn't sleep much either. He drifted off to sleep a few times, only to wake up again minutes later. Tired as he felt, he couldn't rest. Morning seemed an eternity away, and when it finally came, Alphonse found himself wishing he could get some more rest. The way back was long and tiresome. Captured soldiers dragged themselves along the desert, making the trip annoyingly slow. The sun on their heads made the trip only worse. Traveling overnight would have been much more agreeable, but they would also risk having captured soldiers running from them in the darkness. Having no choice, they all continued to walk.

The sun was about to set in the horizon when they finally saw the first signs of civilization. Trucks came to meet them, as did other soldiers. Mustang kept on walking down the cobblestone street a few more yards and then stopped. Around him soldiers came and went, busy with their activities. Noticing his awkward behavior, Colonel Rong came to meet him.

"I think your help here won't be necessary anymore. You should go with the injured soldiers to the hospital. I see you have some scratches. They could get infected. And you can see Captain Hawkeye, I suppose."

"Yes. I should do that," he agreed, with some hesitation. He hadn't contacted the hospital and he didn't know about Hawkeye's condition. He still remembered all of the possible complications of prolonged severe hypotension that Alphonse had told him about. All the complications that the hospital doctors were looking out for, only because they had seen too many go that way before. Only because they knew they might lose this one patient the same way too.

Many soldiers and prisoners were loaded on trucks that were waiting for them. Some of the more severely injured had been transported before, but still a medical post had been set up for triage, to choose who needed to be sent to the hospital, and who could be managed at the military medical facilities. Mustang and Alphonse got on a small truck filled with Xingese lads. The air reeked of blood and sweat. A discrete smell of infection already contaminated the vehicle. On top of that, the heat allowed wounds to become purulent quickly, attracting flies that pestered the tired soldiers.

Alphonse waved his hand to scare the flies away every now and then, but they were particularly interested in a wound in the head of a tall Xingese soldier by his side and wouldn't stop flying around him as well.

When they got to the hospital, Mustang got off immediately and walked to the reception desk, ignoring the fact that Alphonse was held back by some nurse because of all the blood on his clothes. It wasn't his blood, he tried to tell her, as Roy managed to call the attention of a Xingese lady in glasses and a white uniform behind the counter. He asked her about Captain Hawkeye, and then remembered the language barrier that had often made his life difficult in that country.

The Xingese nurse shook her head and gave him a confused slight smile, as trying to say she couldn't understand him. Roy cursed and looked around for Alphonse, but didn't see the boy anywhere. He turned again to the nurse and repeated his captain's name nervously. He had to make her understand what he needed. He couldn't wait anymore. He needed to know, although fear was eating him from the inside. What if she hadn't made it? No. She had to be alive. She just had to. He needed her to be. And then it finally occurred to him that he could try to make the nurse understand that Hawkeye was an Amestrian soldier. He pointed at his uniform, and showed her his dogtag, before saying, "Amestris, Captain Riza Hawkeye?"

The nurse made a slight movement with her head, as if finally she had understood. She got a set of keys and walked around the counter, gesturing for Mustang to follow her. Relieved, the Brigadier General followed her. So Hawkeye was alive after all. She had to be. Or maybe the nurse hadn't understood him at all, he thought, as the woman took the stairs down instead of up. Mustang now felt irritated. She had to have misunderstood him. They walked two flights of stairs and ended up in the empty corridors of the underground floor, where the pipes occasionally leaked brownish water into old buckets placed here and there.

"Excuse me, Miss, I think you got me wrong. Captain Hawkeye is a patient here. A patient," he tried in vain, as the woman did not seem to make any sense of a single word he said. Instead, she opened a metal door and gestured for him to go inside.

It was freezing cold there and there was the distinct smell of hospital disinfectant and dead bodies. Gurneys were placed side by side, covered with dark brown sheets. Mustang felt his own blood freeze. The nurse had just brought him to the hospital morgue. Before he could overcome his shock, the woman pulled a gurney to the side, one that had a tape written "Amestris" on it in Xingese.

"Amestris, Amestris..." she started saying, pointing at different gurneys with dead bodies covered in the same old sheets. "Xing, Amestris, Xing, Xing, Xing..." she went on, pausing to check a piece of tape on another gurney, "Xing... Xing, Amestris."

She then turned to him, but Mustang didn't move nor said anything. He couldn't. Panic had struck him. He couldn't breathe or think. Maybe the nurse had seen that situation too many times, maybe she was just tired, or maybe she didn't care at all. She mechanically pulled a gurney closer and exposed the dead body on it. A dark-haired man, extremely pale and with eyes half-open, showed. Seeing that Mustang didn't react, the nurse assumed it wasn't that man whom he was looking for and proceeded, uncovering each Amestrian body to a brigadier general that was frozen on the spot. When she lifted the sheet from the last body and again Mustang didn't see anyone he knew, someone else walked into the room in a hurry.

"What's going on? Is she..." Alphonse said, walking into the cold room, his voice laden with panic and tears already forming on his eyes.

"She's not here," Roy said, moving for the first time since he had walked into that place. His whole body moved slowly and with difficulty. His hands shook and he clenched his fists to make them stop.

Alphonse breathed out in relief and started talking quickly to the nurse in Xingese. It turned out the woman had assumed that since dogtags were used to identify dead soldiers, Mustang had to be looking for somebody who had passed away.

"She'll check the patients' charts," Alphonse said to Mustang, as they walked outside and the woman locked the door with a heavy metallic thud that sounded awfully cold, like a prison door being slammed at an innocent man's face.

"Room 34, third floor," Alphonse almost yelled to Mustang as he finally managed to get some real information from the nurse. "She's alive!"

Roy felt relieved as he hadn't felt in ages. Those were the first good news he had heard since he had come to that country. All the rest that had happened, he could live with that now.

They climbed the stairs two steps at a time, all but running. As they turned into the corridor they saw many open doors, patients walking around bringing their IV fluids with them, nurses carrying charts or bedpans, and an occasional doctor with a chart in hand.

"31... 32..." Alphonse read the numbers on the doors, and they finally located the right door.

Hawkeye was sitting up in her bed with a couple of pillows behind her back. She was talking to Sergeant Fuery, who had a bed in the same room. Mustang noticed she still looked pale and tired, but she was alive and conscious. Nothing could have made him feel happier now.

"I think they were first year students. The teacher told that girl off because she was holding the stethoscope wrong," Fuery was saying when he saw Hawkeye turn to the door and also noticed Mustang and Alphonse standing there.

"General!" Riza said, surprised and happy at the same time, though not completely relieved yet. Lying there in a hospital bed meant she hadn't receive any information about the general since she had been admitted. Being by Roy's side was her job, both as a body guard and as a companion, but she hadn't been able to be there as either, and certainly at a time he needed her. She had been very worried that he might be injured in battle, but that was far from being the only problem. After everything that had happened, she knew it would take time for Roy to recover. For both of them to recover.

Mustang didn't say anything to her. She could see him breathe out in relief and his shoulders relax for a second, like he had just let go of a heavy load he had been carrying. He suddenly walked towards her in a hurry, reaching out to hug her tight.

"Are you okay? Aren't you hurt?" Riza asked, but his arms were wrapped tight around her body and she couldn't see his face. His chin was pressed against the top of her head and his breathing sounded heavy. "Talk to me, are you okay?" she insisted and tried to pull away from him for a second, but gave up as she realized she was still too weak. She hugged him back tight as well, feeling that was the best thing to do now.

Quite a few seconds went by before either of them moved. But finally Hawkeye tried to move away from Mustang and he let go of her.

"Are you okay? Are you injured?" she asked anxiously, looking at him from top to bottom, relieved to see that despite being covered in dust, Roy seemed to be in one piece.

"I'm fine. I'm not injured. How are you?" he asked in an unsteady voice, his hands still holding her arms gently.

"I'm getting better. Sir, you don't look well. Are you sure you are okay?" she asked concerned. Mustang was sweating and shaking as if he had a fever.

"Yes, I'm OK now."

"Get a chair, sit down. You're really pale," Riza said, pointing at an old chair close to Fuery's bed. Alphonse hurried and got it, bringing it to Mustang, who sat down merely because they asked him to. He didn't care about sitting or standing right now.

"You just returned from battle, didn't you? Did you have many casualties?" Hawkeye asked, trying to return to the usual formal tone that should be used when talking to a superior officer. Neither Al nor Fuery should know about her relationship with Roy.

The General just rested his elbows on his knees and faced the floor, looking utterly exhausted.

"Let's not talk about this now, okay? Let's not talk about any of that, please," he pleaded in an even more unsteady voice.

"Okay, okay. Later, not now," she said quickly. Mustang was a wreck. She glanced at both Fuery and Alphonse, who watched the man, also concerned. Neither of them knew what to say.

"We will be okay now," she tried to say. "We'll pick up the pieces and move on. We always do."

There was a sound of heavy steps coming from outside their room and everyone but Roy turned to the door to find Second Lieutenant Breda, in his blue uniform, apparently looking for Mustang.

"Sir, I got the news that everyone is back already. Are you and Alphonse all right? How did t-" he started asking, but then stopped when Mustang turned to him with discrete tears streaking down his face. Breda couldn't remember having seen Mustang cry before.

"I'm sorry," the General said, wiping the tears quickly, embarrassed.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes. I'm fine."

Breda swallowed nervously, before asking how the battle in the desert had gone.

"We managed to hold them back. What's the situation in Zhu Xia?"

"We arrested the new leader yesterday and seized their weapons. It's over."

"It looks as if it is," Roy answered, not looking at anybody.

"It is," Breda said with a slight smile.

"What a mess," Mustang said with a sigh, slouching on the chair again, weariness taking the best of him.

"But everything will be all right now," Breda said.

"All right?" Mustang asked, with a sarcastic laugh, raising his eyes to the Lieutenant.

„The whole city is destroyed. There are tens of thousands of refugees, God knows how many casualties, and a whole new lot of Drachman crispy critters burried in the desert, along with Xingese soldiers. How can anything be all right?"

Breda sighed, not knowing what to say. Mustang had this ability. He could encourage people when he wanted to, find bravery that his men themselves didn't even know they had. But Mustang could just as easily render everyone around him speechless.

"How can anything be all right?" Mustang asked again, this time to no one specifically.

"I guess we take can what we can get."

"It's not enough. It shouldn't be. Damn it," Roy said, tears coming down his face again. "Damn it all."

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the sound of Roy's heavy breathing.

"We did what we could, Sir."

"We started it! I started it! Getting kidnapped like an idiot, losing my memory, almost shooting myself in the head!" Mustang blurted out, frustrated. "Everything went wrong since I stepped into this country." He then turned to Hawkeye, his voice now much lower. "I thought I had lost you."

"You didn't, Sir. I'm right here," Hawkeye replied sadly, wishing she could hug him again, and let him rest in her arms until he could calm down.

"Breda, the last few weeks must have finally caught up with him. Will you give us a minute? Bingham can take care of things in Zhu Xia for now, can't he?" Hawkeye asked, as the Lieutenant was still standing there, probably wishing to discuss military issues.

But Mustang raised his head and wiped the tears from his face again, breathing in deeply and trying to compose himself.

"Hawkeye's right, Sir," Breda said. "Bingham can take care of things and you probably need some rest."

"No, it's fine. I have my memories back. I can't continue making excuses now that I'm back to normal."

The general adjusted his Xingese uniform, wiped his face with a tissue he got from the nightstand, then turned to Riza.

"I'll come back to see you as soon as I can, okay?"

"Take care of yourself, Sir. Don't overdo it. You're tired," she told him, hating herself for having to let him go.

Roy stood up from the chair and sat by her side on the bed, his eyes now at the same level as Riza's. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead gently.

"Roy, everybody's looking," she whispered to him nervously.

"I don't care. Let them know. I don't care anymore," Roy said, without the slightest effort to avoid being heard by the others. They were all definitely looking at them now, but Roy placed a finger on Riza's chin to make her look at him and his lips touched hers eagerly. When they broke away from each other, Alphonse and Fuery were both quiet, looking at the door. Breda had left the room without saying a word.

"I have to go. Just focus on getting better, okay?" Mustang said, before leaving the room as well. Breda was waiting outside in the corridor, hands in his pockets, a quite irritated expression on his face.

"You and Hawkeye, then?" he asked.

"If you're going to be pissed at me, I don't care. I'm too tired to argue now."

"Knowing you, I'm not so surprised. Knowing her, I'm fucking shocked."

"I don't expect you to understand."

"How long has this been going on?"

"One year and... eight months now."

"That long?" Breda was indeed surprised. "How did it happen?"

In a normal situation, being questioned like that by a subordinate would certainly annoy Mustang. But Roy knew he was the one who was doing something wrong. He was the one taking risks, even though his men had been working so hard with hopes he'd become Fuhrer one day.

"We almost got involved years before," the general started. „But I went to Ishval, and later she followed me. We decided not to get romantically involved, so we moved on with our lives. But after everything that happened during the Promised Day..."

"Does anyone else know?" Breda interrupted him.

"Grumman knows about it. He promised to do something to help us, though he didn't say what. And Havoc. He was pretty pissed when he found out about us, too."

"If I know Havoc well, he was probably more worried about Hawkeye's feelings than your career."

"Indeed," Mustang replied.

"At least you succeeded in hiding your relationship well."

Mustang nodded in agreement, though their relationship wasn't much of a secret now.

"We should go talk to Bingham then. There isn't so much to do there now, so I assume we can come back to the hospital soon. You look like you could use some sleep. And a shower. Definitely a shower. You must have a pound of dirt sticking to your skin."

"You don't look much cleaner than I do."

"True. Personally I don't care about you, but I feel bad for Hawkeye."

Mustang allowed himself to laugh at the joke. Maybe Breda wasn't so angry anymore. They left for the military base in Qyang so they could talk to Bingham, hoping to be able to come back soon. Riza would probably be mad that he had let the others know, but at least it meant they didn't have to be so discreet all the time.

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 **A/N:** Hello guys! I hope you liked the chapter and I'll try to post on time next week. My uni is driving me insane as usual. Leave a review if you can and see you next week!


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** Me not own anything. Me needs coffee.

I want to say thanks to everyone who's reading and hooray! for posting on the proper day this time. And I want to say a big thank you to my great beta-reader, ssadropout!

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 **Chapter 16 – If I Lose Myself**

 _If I lose Myself – One Republic_

The funny thing about traveling to faraway lands is that once you've crossed the border into your own country, you feel you're already home. Even if you have no idea how to get to your house from that specific part of the country you're in now, you're home. For the tired soldiers who had fought in Zhu Xia, it might feel as if it hadn't even happened, but it had. It had happened, and it had left marks on everybody. But life goes on, and people slowly adapt to their routines again, despite flashbacks and bad memories.

Central city was in silence, as the night had advanced into late hours, taking the citizens home to their families, to have dinner and get some rest after long hours of work. But somewhere in a residential neighborhood not far from downtown, a lot of noise suddenly erupted, sending the sleeping pigeons flying and waking up probably all the neighbors.

"What the hell?" echoed a voice in the dark room, as the loud noises came through the open window. The man jumped out of bed nervously, ready for the incoming attack. More loud cracks came from outside, as it finally dawned on him that he wasn't in the battlefield.

Falman straightened himself up and breathed out slowly, now recognizing the horrible sound as mere firecrackers. Apparently some kids had bought some to disturb the neighbors, as it hadn't been the first time that week. He brought a hand to his head, running it over his recently shaved head and felt something like a small prick. He had a big wound that was still healing. The stitches had been removed more than a week before, but just the previous day he had noticed one had been missed. The single stitch was still there poking out of the healing wound, but he'd have to go to the hospital to have it removed, or maybe he'd ask someone from the office to just yank it off anyway they could.

Now annoyed at the fact that the next day would start early at the office, Falman decided to go back to bed. Even if the adrenaline rush prevented him from falling asleep again, which would most likely be the case, at least he was at home, in a comfortable bed, and not sleeping on the ground of the dirty desert trenches. Just a couple of weeks ago, being clean-shaved and wearing clean clothes was all he could have wished for.

Morning came and the birds started singing. A casket with the Amestrian flag was laid in a hole in the military cemetery, while the dead soldier's family watched sadly. Lieutenant Breda watched too, as the soldier's parents said their last goodbye to their son, a young man Breda had barely known, but who had served under his command in Zhu Xia. The lad had died from pneumonia, a complication of being hospitalized for too long due to his extensive wounds. Breda left the cemetery at last, wondering how many funerals he had attended in his life. He hated them. Every single one he had gone to, he had promised himself not to go to another one. People were dead anyway, what difference would it make if he was there to see them be buried or not? But every time there was another one, he ended up going.

The day had started cloudy and gloomy, but as nine o'clock approached, the sky began to clear and the weather seemed more promising. Not far from the military headquarters, another tall building stood, imposing and scary. The Army Hospital was one of the best of the whole country, making the military proud of being able to care for their soldiers so well. But the white rooms always looked the same, always impersonal and indifferent to patients' stories or lives. Therefore, anyone staying there certainly enjoyed having visitors.

"Come on, man! You can do another set!" Havoc said in encouragement, as Sergeant Fuery lay back on his bed, the brand new automail leg reflecting the light of the room. Bandages were still placed around the site of the implantation, mostly to prevent infection.

"It hurts," was the only thing Fuery managed to say. "Both my legs hurt."

Physical therapy was going to become a part of Kain's daily routine now, but the extra exercise sets he had been ordered to do during the day, whenever he found the energy to, were still quite painful.

"Okay, okay, sit ups then. Come on, man. No slacking off. I've been there, and rehab sucks, but you have to do it," Havoc insisted, standing at the other end of the bed.

Fuery sighed, thinking of when Havoc had brought him back from the slums to the base. The Lieutenant had been injured himself, and despite being in terrible pain, he had carried Kain a long way.

"I guess I can do another set," Fuery said, sitting up and letting his feet touch the floor.

"Good," Jean replied approvingly, placing a hand on his friend's knee to provide some extra resistance for the muscles to work against.

"Aren't you awfully late for work?" the Sergeant asked, as he flexed his ankle repeatedly, trying not to grimace at the pain that shot up the recently connected nerves. He was still a long way from standing up and walking, but at least he had two legs again.

"Mustang's orders. 'When you visit him, make sure he's not slacking off'. That's what he said."

"It does sound like him. What about Captain Hawkeye? She's already home, isn't she?"

"Yes, she was discharged. Mustang says she's doing much better. He's taking good care of her, so I guess we don't need to worry. She wanted to come back to work already, but the boss said she can't yet."

"Did she listen to him?" Fuery asked, as he knew Riza to be a true workaholic.

"She'll be back part time next week. I visited her at her place yesterday, and believe or not, Mustang had even cooked and left lunch ready for her."

"Seriously?" Kain asked, laughing.

"Poor Hawkeye. The grub didn't look too good."

Both men laughed, and Jean went on, telling Fuery about Hawkeye's answer to his question about it.

" _He's not the best cook, but... Well, it was made with love. And now I have to eat it," she had said, laughing. "But it's not bad, really. He's trying hard to master the kitchen."_

" _As long as he doesn't set anything on fire..."_

" _I don't allow him to bring his gloves into my kitchen. For obvious reasons."_

Sergeant Fuery had to laugh at the story. He had known both Mustang and Hawkeye as coworkers and friends, but it was funny to imagine them as a couple.

"Hey, you finished your set and barely noticed, see?" Havoc said as Kain lay back in bed again, waiting for the pain to recede.

"True."

"Listen, I've gotta go. But get one of the nurses to help you with the rest of your sets later."

"Okay. Hey, Lieutenant."

"What?" Havoc asked, in the middle of putting his jacket on and getting ready to leave.

"Thank you."

"No need. Told ya before."

By the time Havoc finally got to work, he was indeed awfully late. But Mustang shouldn't say anything, as he himself had ordered everyone to check on Fuery's progress when they had a chance. The Lieutenant climbed one flight of stairs and as he began to climb another, he saw the slim frame of someone in civilian clothes, quite an uncommon sight inside the headquarters. Looking up, he finally recognized the blond long hair and the young face of Edward Elric, the former Fullmetal Alchemist, looking quite pleased to see him.

"Ed! What are you doing here?"

"Looking for Mustang's new office. This place hasn't changed a bit, but I can't find it."

"You're on the wrong floor, Boss. One more floor up," Havoc replied, pointing upwards.

"I'm not in the army anymore. No need to call me Boss," Edward replied, walking beside the tall lieutenant.

"I know, but old habits die hard, right? How's Alphonse?"

"Doing okay, considering everything that happened. How's everyone?"

Havoc brought the lad up to speed in few words as they walked to the office, only to find out that Edward had missed Mustang by less than two minutes.

"Why don't you wait in his office? He'll be back in no more than five minutes, I believe," Breda offered, after greeting the lad and asking how he had been.

Everyone was always busy with work at the office, and missing two members of the team meant a great deal of work to do. Edward was used to it, so he wasn't surprised that the others couldn't talk much to him. But he needed to talk to Mustang, and hoped the general could find the time for it. In fact, Mustang was quite busy, but Edward had certainly traveled a long way, and the General was actually happy to see him.

"How are you doing, Edward?" he asked, as both men sat down after shaking hands politely, something a bit new to both of them. When Ed was younger, he would usually greet Mustang in the informal and somewhat rude way that only teenagers can. Now the older Elric sat down straight, having at last found a sense of respect for the man whom he had fought alongside to stop the homunculi's plans to destroy their country.

"Very well. I got a new job... My son just began crawling around the house... I have my brother back at home. I can't complain."

"How's Alphonse doing? After Zhu Xia?" Mustang asked, a little concerned.

"He's doing better. He was very quiet when he came back. But he told me about everything, and I think he's made peace with what happened. You know, having shot a man dead and all."

"I was worried about that. I'm glad he's okay."

"Actually I need to talk to you about something he told me."

"Yes?"

„The thing you told him before the battle, to imagine soldiers coming to our house to tell me he had been killed in battle. It was a nasty thing to tell him," Edward said plainly.

Roy leaned back on his chair nonchalantly, wondering why he had thought Edward had finally grown up. Maybe he hadn't, after all.

"Al has had nightmares with similar situations a couple of times since he came back. Soldiers coming to our house to deliver bad news. I have to say, making him imagine such a thing... You were an ass."

"Edward, I serio-„

"Let me finish, please," Edward interrupted him impudently, to which Mustang had to try hard not to tell the lad to stop wasting his time and leave. He hadn't changed after all. Bold and stubborn as always.

"Al went into that battle so scared that he might not make it out alive that when he needed to take drastic measures to survive, he actually did. He shot a man dead, and that's what got him out of there alive. Your being an ass is the reason why I still have my brother," Edward continued. „So I'm here to say thank you."

"Thank you?" Mustang said after a moment of silence, wondering if he had heard it right.

"Yes. I guess I'm thanking you for being an ass."

Had the situation been different, Roy would certainly have laughed. Edward could offend him even when thanking him. But Mustang felt a little explanation for his actions was called for.

"I did what I had to do, Edward. It was a mistake to allow him to come, but once he was there I couldn't protect him all the time."

"You did right in allowing him to go. He wouldn't want to stay behind. I know that even though he took a life with his own hands and helped you in killing others, he helped prevent a much higher number of casualties. I look at the big picture and I'm proud of him. I don't know what I'd have done in the same situation. I was the one in the army, and he was the one who had to fight in battle. Quite ironic."

"Yes. It is," Roy admitted.

"What about you? How are you doing now that you have your memories back?" Edward inquired, changing the topic.

"I'm trying to move on and not think too much about certain things. I don't know how much Alphonse told you."

"You almost killed yourself."

"Yes, there was such an incident."

"You still carry all the dead from Ishbal on your back, don't you, General?"

"I was stranded in a totally different situation, with no memory of anything. I didn't almost commit suicide over Ishbal. Killing myself would be of no benefit to them."

"I'm just saying you should make peace with your past as well. It's something Alphonse asked me to tell you. He wanted to say that to you, but I guess he had no presence of mind at the time. And I have to agree with him."

Edward observed as Mustang turned his gaze to nowhere specifically, all of a sudden avoiding eye contact. Even the headstrong self-assured Brigadier General Roy Mustang had his issues, Ed thought. As the older Elric stood up to say goodbye and leave, he remembered something else he had to say.

"By the way, I ran into Fuhrer Grumman and he asked me to give you something since I was coming here to see you," the lad said, taking a rolled-up newspaper from the inner pocket of his jacket and laying it on Roy's desk.

"What is it?"

"Today's newspaper. He just said to give it to you."

The lad said goodbye, told the general to send Hawkeye his regards, and left the office for what would be the last time in a long time. Havoc, Breda and Falman were already used to Mustang's habit of disappearing into his office for hours at a time without saying anything every now and then, so no one found it awkward that the general remained there for some time after Edward had gone. Despite all the work they had left, only after more than fifteen minutes did Roy get out of his office, newspaper in hand, laying it on Havoc's desk, right in front of the Lieutenant.

"Sir?" Havoc asked, and Breda and Falman also turned to look at an article Mustang was now pointing.

"Read this and tell me I'm not imagining things," Roy said with some urgency.

Havoc got the newspaper and turned it to read the article. Breda and Falman looked at each other and then at the blond lieutenant as Jean started reading in silence. A few moments later, he put the newspaper down with a slightly mischievous smile, saying, "It seems Grumman finally did it."

"Yes, he did, right?" Mustang asked, anxiety now becoming obvious in his usually composed features.

"He did."

"I should... I have work, but... maybe..." Roy started, looking utterly lost all of a sudden.

"We'll take care of things here," Havoc said, as Breda got the newspaper and read it with Falman.

"I can't believe it," Breda said laughing as he finally understood. "Just go, Boss."

"Right. I'll... I'll be back."

"Sure you will..." Havoc said sarcastically, while Mustang put on his jacket in less than a split second and stormed out of the room in a hurry.

"Can anyone tell me what's going on?" Falman asked his friends.

"Mustang and Hawkeye have been in a secret relationship for almost two years and now Grumman changed the law so they can get married," Havoc said normally, like it was no surprise at all.

"Quit joking, what is going on?"

"He's not joking," Breda said. "Nice move. Bringing back some two-hundred-year law that only officers ranked captain and above can get involved without reprimand."

"Subject to being reallocated to different work places only if the relationship in question brings difficulties to the proper balance of the working environment," Havoc read from the article. "I suppose if they can be together for that long without anyone knowing they can continue working together without any problems."

"Wait a minute, Mustang and Hawkeye... they are together?" Falman asked, in shock.

"Better get that old suit of yours out of the wardrobe, Falman. I see a wedding coming soon."

Both Breda and Havoc had to laugh at Falman's dumbfounded expression.

"And the two of you knew it? Man, Sergeant Fuery is also going to be surprised," Falman observed, taking the newspaper to read the article thoroughly.

"Not really, he also knows about them," Havoc replied, standing up and getting a stack of documents from Mustang's desk.

"Even Fuery knows? Why am I the only one who didn't know about it?"

"Chill. I found out about it in Zhu Xia. Fuery too," Breda replied, finding it funny that Falman seemed quite offended to be the last one to know.

Outside the headquarters the sky that had been clearing was now dark again, and heavy drops of water started falling, making people open their umbrellas or look for cover in the small shops that lined the street.

Inside her apartment, Riza looked through the window, thinking how long it would take for the rain to stop. The weather had been quite fickle since she had come back from Xing, but it didn't matter all that much to her. She hadn't gone to work in the last few days, and shopping was something she could do after the rain ceased. Getting back to the book she had been reading, Hawkeye forgot about the rain quickly. At least her time off meant she could finally try to catch up on her reading, something she usually didn't have time for. But something else prevented her from finishing a chapter. Hayate, the dog, had been sitting on the floor by her feet quietly. But all of a sudden the animal raised his head, looked at the door, and then took off, barking and wagging his tail.

"What is it, boy? Is there anyone at the door?" she asked, even though the dog could not understand it – something Roy often joked about.

The doorbell rang, and Hayate started barking and jumping at the door. This was his usual reaction to Roy coming, and Riza wondered if it could really be him. It was early afternoon and the general was supposed to be at work. And indeed, when she opened the door, it was Roy, soaked to bone because of the rain outside.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, noticing that despite being drenched, Roy had a quite a big smile on his face. "If someone attacked you out in the street, how would you use your alchemy?" she continued, and as Roy didn't answer but kept on smiling, she added, "You're soaked! You should know better!"

A good explanation. He would definitely need one now, Hawkeye thought, as Mustang walked into her apartment, dripping water all over the place. The silly smile was still playing on his face, and Riza was now beginning to wonder why. Usually he wouldn't think being all drenched was funny.

"What is it?" she finally asked, and Mustang opened his jacket, getting a slightly humid newspaper that he had bought on his way since he had forgotten the other one at the office.

"Grumman did it!"

Riza tried to say something, but the words got lost somewhere on the way. Roy showed her the article from the newspaper and looked at her again. All trace of annoyance at his recklessness had been wiped out and replaced by a broad smile.

"He did it. He really did!" she said, dropping the newspaper on the coffee table to hug Roy. "We can finally get married, I can't believe it!"

"No more hiding, no more secrecy, no more sneaking out of your place early in the morning so nobody sees me," Roy said, laughing, before he composed himself. "Do you have some of my extra uniform pants and jackets here? I have to go back to the headquarters soon. I left the guys by themselves and there's a ton of paperwork."

"I have, in the laundry room."

"We're going to celebrate tonight," Roy said, walking by Riza to try and find a set of dry clothes for himself. "But this time, at a restaurant. Civilian clothes, and all," he added happily, and started taking his wet clothes off.

"Don't bother putting those on yet," Hawkeye said, pointing at the clean clothes from the pile. "You're not going anywhere now."

Mustang dropped the dry clothes back on the pile.

"Are you telling me to skip work, Captain?" he joked, as she came closer, reaching for his belt to open it.

"Apparently, you're going to be a little late."

"Yes, it's raining heavily. Too bad."

"Yes, too bad."

The guys would have to deal with the paperwork by themselves for a little longer.

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 **A/N:** Yay! Finally! Hold on! Don't go away yet! There's one more chapter to come! Come back next week for more! And don't forget to leave a review! Thanks for reading and see you next Friday!


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA or the song used for this chapter. What a surprise! (insert sarcasm here)

I want to say thanks to everybody who's reading and to my great beta-reader, ssadropout! This is the last chapter folks, so... enjoy it!

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 **Chapter 17 – Chasing Cars**

 _Chasing Cars – Snow Patrol_

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 **Years later…**

The clock ticked its way past five o'clock, the last class of the day already running into overtime. The professor concluded her thoughts and the usual hustle and bustle of students putting away their books and notes followed. Everybody started talking. Some people stood up to go share some more thoughts with their professor. Others who were in a hurry left with a couple of goodbyes to their friends.

Kate stood up, not paying much attention to the chitchat around her. She pulled her long dark hair back and out of her way and put her belongings in her schoolbag slowly, lost in her thoughts. Quite a few people said good bye to her and wished her a good weekend, but she replied to all of them with only part of her attention. Her thoughts were mostly focused on an old notebook she had left at home and hoped to be able to read. Her 15-year-old brother Richard would probably be reading it, as they had almost argued over who'd get to start reading it first.

"Hey, Kate," a familiar voice called as Kate stepped out of the university's entrance hall. A boy with dark hair nicely combed to the side and wearing a military uniform had been waiting for her for some time, as could be noticed by a watch with a broken strap he hid back in his pocket the moment he laid eyes on her. He looked like he hadn't even made it to his twenties yet, his body still thin for the soldier uniform and only traces of facial hair beginning to show - enough to justify shaving, but not enough for growing a beard. The nineteen-year-old however, did call the attention of other girls who walked by.

"Reece, hi!" she greeted him. "What are you doing here?"

"Just passing by. Thought I might say hello to you, see how you're doing."

"Shouldn't you be at the academy?" Kate asked him, to which the boy ran his hand through his hair and smiled sheepishly.

"I have the weekend off this time. Actually my dad sent me. He wanted me to ask how your dad's doing."

Kate's face turned a little somber.

"Not good, huh."

"He's been distant. Working around the house or locking himself in his office, doing I don't know what. He repainted most of the rooms. Yesterday he was fixing the roof, without even using his alchemy. It's like he doesn't know what to do with his free time."

"I guess he's not used to that. I mean, having free time," Reece said. "But he found something to do. That's a good thing, right?" he added hopefully.

"I'm not so sure," Kate couldn't help but saying, thinking about the old notebook she had left at home.

"And how are you doing, Kate?" the boy asked again. "This whole thing seems to have affected you as well."

"I kind of saw it coming. It's just… Well…" she started, then understood she needed to talk to someone else about it. Someone who wasn't involved in the same family drama. "Can we go somewhere else to talk?"

"Sure, uh… Pub? Restaurant? Café? Your house?"

"My house sounds fine," Kate said, then remembered something. Reece had been away at the academy for two weeks in a row. His parents and siblings probably wanted him for dinner and didn't want to share the family's oldest son with his friend. "Wait, never mind. Your parents probably want to talk to you and spoil you now that you're home."

"It's not a problem. Mom's busy at the shop until late tonight. She's gonna close it for the weekend. Dad's probably the one cooking and he's kind of slow in the kitchen. Dinner won't be ready before eight. You need not worry about me, Miss Kate Mustang," Reece said, extending his arm to Kate in a flamboyant way –meant mostly to make the girl laugh – so she could wrap her arm around his.

"All right, Mr. Reece Fuery."

Kate smiled and took his arm, glad that she could talk to somebody who understood her. Reece was the oldest son of First Lieutenant Kain Fuery, a man who had worked with Kate's parents, Roy and Riza Mustang. They had known each other even before Roy had become the Fuhrer and then proceeded to creating a democratic government for the now called Republic of Amestris – a name that had barely made it to the history books, recent as it was. About the same age as Kate, Reece was a childhood friend, and very special to Kate, who, being the daughter of such important people, had grown up a little isolated from other children.

The two friends walked away arm in arm, the lad making jokes and the girl laughing. Not far away from there, in a big house strangely empty for that time of day, a man walked out of his office in slacks and shirt, perfectly pressed. Roy Mustang adjusted his collar in front of the mirror and got a folder with the documents he had gathered. He wasn't going to do anything with them anymore, but someone else would need them. Heymans Breda had been there earlier that day, just to ask how he was doing. He had also seen Vato Falman no more than two days before and he could have given the documents to either of them, but only now had he been able to sort all of them out.

Roy walked upstairs to the bedrooms to let Richard know he'd go out, but found no sign of his son. The teenager's room was a mess as usual, but the boy was not there and nor was the journal Roy had seen in his hand around lunchtime, when the boy had gotten home from school. Neither of his children had said anything about it. Richard was indeed reading it, and from a bookmarker that Roy had seen sticking out of the journal, the boy had read almost a third of it by then.

Letting out a sigh, Roy took a look around the empty bedroom. Books were spread over the desk. Notebooks with random alchemy symbols were open on the floor and Richard's guitar was on his bed, partially covered by clothes. Roy picked it up and put it back on its stand. The boy could play great music with it, but wasn't the best at looking after the musical instrument. After making sure the guitar was properly placed and wouldn't fall from its stand, the man picked a notebook, to look at the alchemy symbol scribbled on it. It had been made quickly, but looked perfectly functional. Both Richard and his older sister Kate had always had a natural talent for alchemy.

" _Look, Dad! Look what I made! I made it myself!"_

Roy smiled at the memory of an eight-year-old Richard showing off his first transmutations. Kate had also learned quickly, when she was even younger than her little brother. The man had certainly enjoyed teaching both his children the art of alchemy and watching them learn it so easily. Suddenly the voice of the happy child was replaced by an older voice, that of a teenage boy. Richard couldn't have been more than 13 when he had started asking to be taught fire alchemy.

" _Why can't you teach me? You know how to use it, even if that symbol on mom's back was damaged by an explosion. You know the symbol!" the boy had argued, frustrated._

Neither Richard nor Kate had been told the real story behind the scar Riza had on her back. The one that had damaged the alchemy symbol tattoo. The scar Roy himself had left on her. But that story was perfectly narrated in that old journal.

" _I'm old enough to learn it!"_

" _There's no need for another flame alchemist, Rick."_

" _But Dad! You know what? I think you're scared that I'll be better than you!"_

" _I'll be most pleased if you become better than I am. But not in flame alchemy. I can't teach you that."_

They had had several arguments over fire alchemy, and over several other things. Since Richard had entered adolescence, he had started butting heads with his parents, but especially with Roy. Just a phase, Riza had said. But she had some control over the boy. He listened to her. Roy on the other hand, often had trouble with him. And now the journal. Was it the right time to give it to his children? But then again, was there any good time at all?

" _It's not like I'll use fire alchemy on other people, Dad."_

" _I'm not teaching it to you, Rick."_

 _Anger contorted the boy's face. He seemed to be thinking of something nasty to say. Roy had just disappeared behind his newspaper. He and Richard had been the only ones already awake in that morning. Riza and Kate were still asleep. Roy thought that he was still to sleepy to care about anything that Richard might say to provoke him._

" _Just because_ you _used it to commit mass murder, doesn't mean I will."_

 _Apparently, he wasn't ready for that one. He held on to the newspaper, not looking at the boy, who stood up from the breakfast table and stomped his way upstairs to his room without another word._

 _Mass murder. A murderer. That's what his son saw in him._

"I guess I deserve it, after all," Roy said to himself, dropping the notebook on the desk and leaving. It didn't matter how much he did for the country and its people. He would never be able to erase his deeds of the past.

As planned, Roy had become the Fuhrer after Grumman decided to retire. Grumman knew of his intentions to create a democratic civilian government. Roy had remained as the leader of the army, but in a civilian government, crimes of war could not be ignored. Even so, Roy had to admit he had gotten away lightly, despite his reluctance to defend himself in court. He had been asked to retire from the army, since the court had considered it quite inelegant to simply expel the country's revolutionary leader, after everything he had done.

Grabbing the folder with the military documents again, Mustang left for one of his former subordinates' house. Lieutenant Colonel Jean Havoc had been working on some reports and might miss these documents sooner or later. Mustang needed some fresh air anyway, so why not take them himself? It was Friday evening already, and Havoc would probably be tired from work and not interested in talking, which would suit Mustang perfectly.

As a matter of fact, Jean Havoc had arrived home feeling tired. He wasn't, however, so tired that he wouldn't want to have a talk with somebody. His family had just left town in the morning to come back on Sunday night and the man was alone at home when the doorbell rang. The soldier was quite surprised to find Roy standing at his front door.

"Hey, boss. What are you doing here?"

"I'm not your boss anymore," Roy replied, extending his hand to give Havoc the folder.

"What's that?"

"Documents on the Aerugon Aircraft report."

"Why'd bring them yourself?"

"I didn't have anything better to do."

"Good!" Havoc said loudly with a smile, taking a step to the side so as to allow Mustang to come in. "Then you won't mind staying and having a drink with me."

"It's fine, Lieutenant Colonel," Roy said.

"Jean. That's enough. Come on in, man."

"It's Friday. I don't want to bother you. You should be with your family."

"Bother me with what? You're my friend. Plus, my wife and kids are away with their grandparents. We can get drunk and nobody will complain."

Having a drink did sound like something Roy needed, so he finally walked inside and sat down by the table at the living room. Havoc found a bottle of whisky he had received as a gift and opened it, knowing Roy enjoyed something stronger than beer.

"What have you been up to?" he asked Roy.

"Organizing my office, mostly. Neil Bickley contacted me asking for help with the Western border affairs. He wants my help in the negotiation once he comes back from Xing. And I may need to travel to Xing myself by the end of the year as well."

Jean smiled at that. "You're out of the fire and back into the frying pan, huh? I knew you wouldn't just settle down and enjoy retirement. Are you planning to run for president in the next elections?"

"No."

"Lots of people would vote for you."

"I don't want to."

"No problem. You did a lot already. You're still doing. How about your kids? How are they doing? Is Kate enjoying her course at the university?"

"Very much, actually. She wants to be a diplomat. She speaks perfect Xingese already, some Aerugon too and she just started learning it."

"She's a smart kid. Is she still with that boyfriend of hers you didn't like?"

"That kid Daniel? She dumped him. Funny how Fuery's kid started visiting us again since she did so."

"Reece? I thought they were just friends. You think he was friendzoned for good?"

"Don't know, don't want to," Roy replied, to which Havoc started laughing. He poured some more whisky for Mustang even though his glass already contained enough and took a sip of his own. Silence fell between them for a moment as Havoc still laughed quietly at Mustang's reaction to the idea of Kate having a new boyfriend.

"I gave them my journal a couple of days ago," Roy said, taking a sip of whisky and looking at nowhere specifically.

"Journal?" Havoc had to think for a moment, before the word rang any bells. "You mean _the_ journal? The journal Hawkeye said you had written to them?"

Roy nodded, finding funny how even after so many years he had married Riza, his former subordinates still used the name Hawkeye. Two people with the same last name in the same office might have caused misunderstandings, Riza had said. She had kept her maiden name as a middle name so people could use it and wouldn't mistake her for Roy if ranks were not mentioned. But Roy knew keeping her maiden name meant her independence as well. She was his subordinate at work, but a true partner for life. Not a shadow, she walked by his side and never behind. Just where he needed her.

Now they had followed different paths, as Roy had left the army, but Riza had decided to continue working there. Roy wouldn't want her to retire too, anyway. There was no reason for her to do so. She hadn't been taken to trial, since she was nothing more than a cadet when she was pulled out of the academy and thrown into the battlefield. Any people she had killed had been considered crimes of people who had given her orders and not her own. Even though that did not make Riza feel better about it, Roy was relieved not to see her go through the same process he had gone through.

"The journal…" Havoc said again. "That's a big deal for you, isn't it?"

"I guess."

"Did they say anything about it?"

"No. I walked by Kate's room last night. The door was closed but I could hear her crying. Richard had it this morning, but he left home and didn't say anything."

"Perhaps you should talk these things over with them, don't you think so?" Havoc suggested.

"There's nothing to talk about. It's all there."

All there. Yes, the narrative certainly was, Havoc thought, but how did Mustang feel about all those things? Had he written about that? Had he written about what had gone through his head when he was in Ishbal fighting or had he just described the massacre in the words a historian would have used?

"Besides, I know what Richard thinks of me already. Kate… I'm not sure. She's probably disappointed," Roy added, then took a big sip of whisky. "Riza talked more about Ishbal to them."

"What does Richard think then?"

"That I'm a murderer. And I am. What else can I say?"

"Geez, man. You're not. Geez, you talk like you're a criminal. Criminals like to kill, if you're a murderer I am too. I've shot people dead before and I don't see myself as a criminal."

"That's different. You shot some. I burned more than can be accounted for."

"During the war, yes. The war. Richard knows the difference."

"Richard said it himself."

Jean was going to drink some more, but put his glass back on the table with a long pause.

"He's a teenager. He talks shit. A teenager's job is to drive parents mad while they try to figure out how adulthood works. And most of them are pretty miserable at that."

"Drive parents mad. He does that all right," Roy complained.

"He can't have really meant something like that, Mustang."

"I have to remember to call you by your first name and you get to call me by my last name like you've always done?" Roy asked in an ironic tone.

"Okay, Roy, whatever. It's difficult to remember. Sounds odd, actually. More whisky? Neither of us has to wake up early tomorrow."

After having to work overtime, Riza finally got home, hoping to meet all of her family, and maybe even find dinner ready. Roy didn't like cooking much, but he had more free time now, so perhaps he had made something? Or, maybe not. Only Kate was there, despite the fact that eight o'clock had just gone by. And the girl had company.

Reece Fuery stood up in a hurry saluting her formally the moment he saw Riza. He seemed slightly nervous, which made Riza wonder what he was doing there. Not that she was worried, though. Kate was old enough to know what she was doing and Reece was a nice hard-working lad. Much better than Kate's last boyfriend.

"At ease, Reece," she told him. It occurred to her that she should probably call him by his last name now that he was a cadet, but she couldn't get used to the idea yet.

"Hey, Mom. How are you?" Kate asked.

"A little tired, but that's all. Where are Rick and Roy?"

"Dad left a note that he was going to Mr. Havoc's house. I don't know about Rick. He must be at some friend's house."

"Does he have your Dad's journal with him?"

"He took it with him. Dad told us not to take it out of the house because of that thing about the Promised Day," Kate said, to which Reece raised his eyes in curiosity but didn't say anything. "But since when does he listen to Dad?"

"Perhaps I should go," Reece said, overcoming his curiosity, since he had talked to Kate and knew there were things she needed to talk to her mother about.

Kate walked the lad to the door, and Riza watched them say their goodbyes from the living room. The girl gave Reece a kiss on his cheek before he left, and the boy smiled sheepishly, before walking down the front steps and leaving. Riza turned around and pretended she hadn't been looking so as not to embarrass the girl. Kate came back, and found her mother in the kitchen, putting a kettle on the stove to heat up some water for tea.

"Mom."

"Yes?"

"Was it really Dad who gave you that scar on your back?" Kate inquired in a sad tone.

"Yes. I asked him."

"But he was scared of hurting you."

"He had great knowledge of his alchemy. He knew how much he could burn. But I had to insist."

"Did you regret showing it to him?"

Riza stepped away from the stove and sat down, thinking about the question.

"Yes. I thought I was giving him a gift. Something that would protect him in the battlefield. And I gave him a curse instead."

"But it did protect him, didn't it?"

"From death, yes."

"Would you have done the same thing again?" Kate asked.

Riza looked into Kate's eyes, so similar to her dad's. Richard had his mother's eyes and Kate had her father's. Both of them had the same dark hair and delicate features. They were the perfect balance of both their parents' genes. Would she have shown Roy her tattoo if she had known everything that would have happened? Would she have been able to hide that secret from Roy, knowing he might not come back from the battlefield alive?

"We've had a great life, despite everything that happened. Despite all the bad, there were so many moments we cherish. Many years ago I used to think that it might have been better not to show him the tattoo. Now I know it was the best I could have done for him. We have you and Richard. We may have our problems, but we are a happy family after all, aren't we?"

"We are," Kate replied with a smile, before asking, "When did you find out you were in love with him?"

Hadn't she told the girl that story before? Riza searched her daughter's eyes for a reason for such a question being asked again.

"First time I saw your Dad in a uniform. Kind of silly, actually."

"It's not silly, I understand it," Kate said, apparently lost in her thoughts. "A uniform does make a difference."

Aha. Kate might have Roy's eyes, but she was indeed a lot like her mother, Riza thought, now finding the answer to her question. She knew her daughter too well.

"How far have you read? The Promised Day?" Riza asked Kate, changing the topic.

"Yes. I haven't finished that part yet. It's scary. These homunculi. I can't imagine who could have created them. Did you find out? I can't understand how King Bradley didn't know of them."

"It's all in the journal. We did find out in time to stop their plans," Riza replied, thinking that Kate would have a big surprise related to King Bradley.

They were talking for another half an hour, until Riza decided that it was late and Richard should be at home. Roy had gone to Jean's place. They were probably having a drink and Roy probably wouldn't come home before he had at least sobered up considerably. He knew better than walking out in the street when drunk, even though he wouldn't drink often.

Riza was just about to call Havoc and ask whether Roy was still there and if he knew where Richard was when the phone rang.

"He came here a little while ago, crying his heart out. Kain is talking to him, trying to understand what happened," Kayleigh said on the phone, as she watched her husband Kain talk to Richard in the other room. By her side Sophie and Mark, Reece's younger siblings, watched as well, thinking it wasn't the best time to go say hi to the boy. Reece was there with his Dad, but soon left the two alone.

"Richard, have a seat," Kain insisted, since the boy was just pacing back and forth in front of him, tears running down his face uninterruptedly.

"I'm an idiot, seriously," he mumbled between sobs, running his fingers through his short hair.

Richard looked a lot like Roy did when he had entered the academy. Richard had the same haircut Roy had worn at that time, only his eyes looked like his mother's and some of his facial features did not resemble either of his parents much. Roy's foster mother had said the boy had picked a few genes from Roy's father's gene pool. There had been talk of an old photograph, but that had never been recovered, unfortunately. Roy had often caught himself looking at Richard and trying to imagine what his own old man had looked like.

"If you don't calm down and explain what happened, I can't help you," Kain said patiently to Richard.

"This journal. Dad… He tried to commit suicide, right?"

Kain was going to sit down but stood up immediately. The trial, having retired from the army, had it finally been more than Roy could take?

"When? Is he okay?" he asked alarmed.

"No, no!" Richard said, sitting down. "Sorry. He's all right. I mean in Xing. Years ago. You found him, didn't you?"

"Good Heavens, you scared me, Richard. I'm gonna get even more white hair after this one," Kain replied, pointing at the grey that had started to show in the middle of his dark hair, and finally sat down too. "You said Xing. You mean Zhu Xia? Where did you hear of that?"

"It's in his journal."

"I didn't know he kept a journal," Kain said, hoping to get more of an explanation from the boy.

"He wrote it for us, you know, about Ishbal, the Promised Day, Zhu Xia, everything," Richard explained, getting the journal from the inner pocket of his jacket with a big sob.

He gave it to Kain, who adjusted his glasses and opened it in a random page, but closed it after reading only three lines. It wasn't meant for him and he didn't feel he should read it.

"Okay. Explain to me why you are crying, now."

"My Dad tried to commit suicide in Zhu Xia, because he was scared that he might be a bad person. And I… I was angry at him… and… He thinks I hate him. Look at what he wrote in the last page!"

Tears started trickling down the boy's face in quantity again as Kain took the journal, uncertain if it was really okay for him to read that. It seemed too personal.

 _I just hope my children can forgive me one day. But if they grow up to hate me, I will understand._

"You were the one who found him when he was thinking of shooting himself in the head, weren't you?" Richard managed to control himself enough to ask. "He wrote about that."

"Yes, it was me. He never really tried to shoot himself, you know that, right?" Kain asked.

"Because you found him first. He wrote that he wanted to do it but couldn't at first. He was sort of… trying to convince himself that it was okay to do it. What did you tell him that you convinced him not to? Dad didn't write what you told him, but it must have meant something to him. He gave up on the idea of killing himself."

Kain tried to think of that night again, but it had been a long time ago. Yes, he had talked to Roy that night; he had told him something that had convinced him to let go of his gun. But what had that been?

"I'm sorry, Richard. I don't remember. But even though I got his gun from him, I think it was what Hawkeye said to him later that truly convinced him. I didn't say much, actually."

The boy nodded slowly.

"Did you read it all already?"

"No. I had read the last page first. I don't know why. The thing that he wanted to commit suicide was the last thing I read. I couldn't continue after that. I feel so stupid. I wanted to learn fire alchemy and it wasn't even Dad's decision to make. And I said some bad things to him."

"You should tell him you don't hate him, if that's what he thinks."

"He won't believe it."

"You told me and I believe you. But he won't know if you don't say it."

"Your wife called him?"

"I think so, let me ask her."

The boy nodded and Kain went after Kayleigh to ask her. She had talked to Riza only, and apparently she didn't know where Roy was at the moment.

"You don't think he'd try it?" Richard asked Kain.

"Like in Zhu Xia? No, he wouldn't do that, Richard," Kain said. He knew that much at least. "He knew he'd be put on trial. He was expecting much worse punishment than being asked to retire. He'll bounce back."

When the doorbell rang minutes later, after Richard had been able to stop crying, Riza walked in first, followed by Kate and a slightly reluctant Roy. He wasn't visibly drunk, but was well aware that if he talked too much he might give away his slightly altered state. Riza had driven to Havoc's house, thinking that giving Roy a ride home was probably a good idea too.

"Sorry about this, Kayleigh. We've been having some problems," Riza said to the woman, who didn't seem bothered at all.

"Oh, don't worry. We're all parents here. We understand," she said, to which Roy thanked her.

They followed the brown-haired woman, who just like Riza, apparently hadn't had much saying in the genetics of hair color, as all her three children had hair as dark as Kain's.

"Rick, Son. Let's go home," Roy said as he walked by Riza and into the room Fuery used as an office, despite some toys that had been dumped in boxes at the corner.

The boy looked down and stood up. He felt something like a poke on his shoulder and looked back, only to see Kain give him a meaningful look. It was like he wanted to say 'you know what to do'.

Without another word, Richard hugged his father and started sobbing miserably again. Roy was so confused that he didn't even hug the boy back at first. They watched as Kain walked past them and to another room, leaving the Mustang family alone.

"What's wrong, Rick?" Roy finally asked.

"I'm sorry, Dad! I forgive you! I don't hate you, I swear I don't!" the boy mumbled in a muffled voice. "I'm sorry," he repeated in a heartbreaking voice.

"Okay, I… I… Okay," Roy said, looking kind of lost to Riza, the way he always did when he didn't know what to do and wanted her to help. But Riza didn't say anything, she just smiled at him, and someone else joined the hug. Roy turned his head to see Kate had embraced them. Tears had started streaming down her face as well.

It took Roy some time to be able to talk, as his voice seemed to have gotten stuck on the way, but he finally managed to ask his children, "Can you forgive me?"

Both replied positively but didn't let go of him just yet. It was only when the tears started dripping from his chin that Roy noticed that he, too, was crying. Those were tears that had been held back for so many years and he felt no need to hold them back any longer.

Kain smiled and wished them well as the group walked outside led by Riza, who was going to drive all of them home.

"I'm sorry about that, Lieutenant. And thank you," she told Kain.

"Any time."

The door was closed after them. Both siblings got in the back seat of the car and Riza walked to Roy before he could also get in.

"I'm proud of you, you know? I truly am. And our children too."

Roy gave her a relieved smile. He had just freed himself of a giant burden he had been carrying so long he didn't even remember what it had felt like not to carry it.

"What would I do without you? All of you?"

"That's why we're here."

She kissed him in the lips and they both got in the car. Sleeping would be a lot easier for both soldiers now.

* * *

 **The End**

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 **A/N:** Yay! Happy ending! If you're happy with the ending, please write a review and make me happy too. I could use some reviews, guys! Thanks a lot for reading, and keep your eyes peeled for more stories.


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